


I Don't Know Everything

by ThisRoseHasAnotherName



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisRoseHasAnotherName/pseuds/ThisRoseHasAnotherName
Summary: Hermione Granger is struggling to adjust to life after the war. After attacking her parents in the throes of a nightmare, Hermione decides to spend some time at the Burrow until she has herself under control again. All the Weasley's are amazing at helping her and each other deal with the aftermath, but one in particular is helping her come to grips with herself, and she helps him in return deal with his own struggles. Fred Weasley is struggling to balance his light-hearted personality with the horrors he has witnessed. Hermione Granger is just the person to help him. #Sucky summary, sorry guys.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I in no way own Harry Potter, characters or otherwise. All of that honor goes to the great lady, JK Rowling herself.

Chapter 1

 

Bellatrix Lestrange stalked towards her, a twisted, rage filled expression on her face. She wanted the prophecy for her master, but she wouldn’t get it. Hermione turned to her friends, ready to shout ‘Run!’, but when she looked, no one was there. Her heart jumped into her throat as she turned back around, her mind emptying. She couldn’t think of a single spell, couldn’t think of a single way to defend herself. Her muscles froze. Just then, Bellatrix sprang toward her. The walls of the Department of Mysteries disappeared around her, changing into the cold interior of Malfoy Manor. Cold, hard, wood dug into her spine as she was pressed into the ground. 

 

“What did you take from my vault?!” Bellatrix screamed. She was so loud Hermione felt like her eardrums were going to burst, and spit flew from Bellatrix’s mouth onto Hermione’s face. Bellatrix shook her, slamming her head into the floor. “What did you take, you filthy Mudblood?!”

 

“I didn’t take anything!” Hermione cried. Bellatrix shifted to cut into Hermione’s arm with her wicked knife, flashing with light from the chandelier above them. A wave of desperation welled in Hermione. “I didn’t take anything!”

 

Bellatrix’s knife felt like fire in her arm, and she tried not to scream. But, as Bellatrix continued to cut, a scream ripped its way out of Hermione’s throat. All she wanted was for Bellatrix to get off her, move, please, but she didn’t. As the pain continued to grow, the poison spreading through her, Hermione jerked and tried to wrench away, her throat hoarse from screaming.

 

Just when she thought it would end, Bellatrix raised herself off of Hermione, done cutting into her arm for the moment, and raised her wand high over her head.  
“What did you take, Mudblood?” She demanded. Hermione could see Greyback leering from behind Bellatrix, just waiting to have ‘a bit of her’. She hoped she died before then.

 

“Nothing!” Hermione was crying. She didn’t want to see her arm, but out of the corner of her eye she could see red pooling. Bellatrix’s face contorted even more - how can one person hold so much rage?

 

“You’re lying, you filthy Mudblood! You’ve been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth! Crucio!” And suddenly every nerve in Hermione’s body had been cut, every bone cracking, fracturing, breaking, every muscle clenching and releasing like they were being pulled apart and then shoved back together. She screamed, jerking and convulsing on the floor, her body slamming back into the ground. Vaguely she wondered how much she could take before ending up like Neville’s parents. And suddenly, it ended.

 

“What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!” Hermione vaguely felt tears running into her sweaty hairline.

 

“We didn’t take anything, it’s a copy, just a copy!” she sobbed. The movement hurt her, but in the next moment, that pain was inconsequential. 

 

Bellatrix rained down on her with her short, silver knife, again and again. It hurt too much to be a regular knife - it must be cursed, or poisoned or-

 

“Hermione!” A voice yelled. Strong hands were shaking her, urging her to wake up, and for a second she couldn’t tell what was real. Quickly she grabbed the wrists of the person shaking her and threw them off, pushing them away. They stumbled back and Hermione grabbed her wand off her pillow and stood up, shouting, “Petrificus Totalus!” 

 

The person’s limbs snapped together and they froze, falling to the floor with a thud. 

 

“Hermione?” A wary voice said softly from the doorway. As Hermione swung around, wand at the ready, the person raised their hands in the ‘I surrender’ position. Hermione could feel her heart pounding, her body burning, her lungs working too quickly, and, for a second, she swayed. The figure in the doorway took a step closer, hands still raised. 

 

“Don’t come any closer!” Hermione said fearfully.

 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Listen to me now.” Hermione stilled. “I know you’re scared, but I need you to take a deep breath for me. Can you do that, love?” Hermione inhaled painfully. Her breath made a wheezing sound like she’d run a marathon. 

 

“That’s right, love. Do you know who I am?” The soft voice asked.

 

After a moment Hermione spoke, her voice hoarse. “Mum?”

 

“That’s right, Hermione. I need you to lower your wand all the way, there’s a girl. I’m going to turn on the light, okay love?” The light flicked on, and Hermione squinted in the bright light. She quickly swung around to look at the figure on the floor. 

 

“Dad!” She cried. She quickly spoke the counter-curse and backed away, the hand holding her wand behind her back and the back of her empty hand covering her mouth as her dad sat up stiffly. She looked between her two parents, who looked steadily back at her. Hermione could tell they were trying to be brave for her, but she could see a hint of fear on their faces. “I’m so sorry!” Hermione’s voice cracked as she spoke. 

 

“It’s alright, love,” her dad said, standing slowly. He moved to stand beside his wife and put an arm around her, steadying the both of them.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said again. She sank to her knees, heels of her hands trying to push her tears back into her eyes. She heard her mum murmur something to her dad, who left the room quietly. Hermione almost couldn’t hear him take the first squeaky step of the stairs over the sound of her ragged breathing. 

 

Her mum walked slowly over to her and knelt down. “Hermione.” She waited until her daughter looked up before continuing. “I know this is hard for you right now. I don’t know what happened out there, and I don’t know how to help you with this.” Hermione wiped away a stray tear that leaked down her face. The tenderness on her mum’s face made her feel like her insides were cracking. All traces of fear on her mum’s face had disappeared and a quiet strength took its place. 

 

“I know, Mum,” she said. She felt guilt rise up in her stomach, clenching her stomach. She had just gotten her parents back, and now she was scaring them. 

 

“None of that, Hermione.” She tucked a piece of her daughter’s bushy hair behind her ear, smoothing it away from her sweaty face. “Your father is downstairs making some peppermint tea. We are going to go downstairs and talk about what we can do for you, okay?”

 

Hermione tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling to keep more tears from falling. “I don’t know, Mum. Maybe I should go away for awhile.” She looked back into her mother’s face. “I know you just got back, but I don’t want another night like this. Maybe I should go stay at the Burrow until I feel better. We can still see each other during the day.” She gestured helplessly with her hand. Her mother caught her wandering hand in her own and held it to her cheek. 

 

“We want what’s best for you, sweetheart. If that means staying away for a while, your dad and I will accept that. We just want you to feel better.” She ran her fingers down Hermione’s Mudblood scar, shining white in the light. Hermione hadn’t shown her parents the scar; in fact, she actively covered herself so her parents wouldn’t see, but she had shucked her sweater off in the dark hours of the night, unable to get comfortable in its bulkiness. Hermione gasped as fire swept through her. Her mother immediately let go, removing her hands like they had been burned.

 

“It’s okay, Mum,” Hermione said with tears of pain in her eyes. “It wasn’t you, it’s poisoned-” She stopped herself. “It’s okay.”

 

She watched the expressions pass over her mother’s face, confusion, understanding, fear, anger, and finally such a heavy sadness that Hermione had to look away. Her mother didn’t comment, just took Hermione’s hands and pulled them both to their feet.

 

“If going away for a while will help you, Hermione, your father and I will support you 100%.” She looked right into Hermione’s eyes. She could see the haunted look that had made its home there, and the desperation for her to understand. A relieved look came over her daughter’s face and she smiled. “Just so long as you come home for dinner on occasion. Your dad and I aren’t quite ready to be empty nester’s yet.” 

 

Hermione quickly agreed.

 

The next morning she sent an owl to Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, explaining the situation to them. (She had bought an owl the day before she went looking for her Mum and Dad to keep in touch with everyone, though the journey had been quick.) Mrs. Weasley had sent the owl back with a note, enthusiastically agreeing that Hermione come stay with them. Mrs. Weasley had been feeling a little down herself with over half of the family moved out, so she was happy to accept Hermione. She gave instructions to come by floo that afternoon. After a large brunch with her parents (she had spent the night packing, she didn’t want to go back to sleep and risk another nightmare), she gave a tearful goodbye and was swept away in a flash of green flames.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As soon as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, she was embraced by Mrs. Weasley. Her beaded bag and one shrunken, feather-light suitcase fell out of her grasp as she hugged Mrs. Weasley back. 

 

“Welcome, Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling back to look at her. “A bit peaky, but I have some light soup in the kitchen.” She knew Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a bit of trouble with food after living so scarcely. The first meal they had after the battle was so filling that Harry and Hermione had both thrown up, and Ron was green around the gills for the rest of the night. 

 

Hermione smiled and nodded. Mrs. Weasley thought a good meal was always the first step in solving a problem, and Hermione knew she looked more than peaky. In fact, she almost resembled a raccoon with the dark circles under her eyes. 

 

“Ginny is upstairs sleeping. She has trouble sleeping at night, poor dear, and Ron is at Grimmauld Place with Harry. They wanted to be here to greet you, but they are helping Kreacher fix up the place.” Mrs. Weasley scooped out a bowl of steaming soup for Hermione and set it on the table in front of her, where she sat facing the window so she could see if anyone was coming up the lane. “Eat up, dear.”

 

Hermione set her beaded bag on the table next to her soup. She liked to have it in arms reach since it still carried the essentials from the Horcrux hunt, and she felt anxious when she wasn’t prepared to disappear on the spot. Reaching for her spoon, she recalled the moments when this bag had saved their lives. 

 

“Thought I heard the floo,” said Ginny from behind Hermione. Hermione reached for her wand, upsetting the bowl of soup, and spun around, thinking of death eaters and screaming. 

 

Ginny stood in the doorway to the kitchen with rumpled clothes, a wicked bed head, and a slightly shocked look on her face, which quickly faded. As Hermione’s cheeks started to stain red, Ginny smiled.

 

“Don’t worry. Harry and Ron are the same way. A lot of us are, really.” She stepped into the kitchen and sat down on the bench next to Hermione. Mrs. Weasley quickly muttered a spell that cleaned up the soup mess and got a new bowl for Hermione and one for Ginny. 

 

“Sorry,” Hermione said, eyes downcast, staring at her hands twisting together, wand resting on the table. 

 

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly. “Now eat up, the both of you.”

 

Ginny rolled her eyes when Mrs. Weasley turned her back, but obediently picked up her spoon and took a bite. Once she had swallowed she nudged Hermione who still sat staring at her hands. 

 

“Seriously, Hermione. It’s okay. Harry hexed his reflection yesterday.” At this Hermione looked up and smiled.

 

“Really?” She asked.

 

“Yes.” Ginny rolled her eyes again with a smile of her own. “He was so confused for a second, poor bloke. He laughed about it, but he was tense the whole rest of the day. I told him he shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he is.”

 

Hermione sat quietly eating her soup for a moment. “I cursed my dad last night,” she said.

 

Ginny stilled, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What happened?”

 

Hermione shrugged. “I forgot to put a silencing spell around my room and I had a nightmare. He tried to wake me up. I couldn’t remember where I was for a second, and he was shaking my shoulders, so I just reacted.” Hermione’s eyes burned. “My parents were scared. Of me. So I decided to stay here for a while before I try to live at home.”  
Ginny put her arm around Hermione. “I can guarantee you something right now, Hermione Granger. Your parents were not scared of you. They were scared for you.” She let Hermione ponder that, and they both sat and ate their soup, lost in their own thoughts. 

 

~

 

“Hermione, dear, Arthur is coming home at 6 tonight and the twins are coming at 6:30 for dinner. Arthur will be apparating and walking up the lane, and the boys will be coming by floo.” Mrs. Weasley told Hermione. 

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione replied. She was sitting on the lumpy couch in the Burrow’s living room reading. The only way she could be totally engrossed in a book nowadays was to have someone else with her on the lookout. When Mrs. Weasley turned, Hermione called out.

 

“Wait! When are Harry and Ron getting here?” 

 

“Oh, they are coming at 6 just like Arthur, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley. She walked back to the kitchen, humming along with Celestina Warbeck.

 

Hermione smiled into her book but couldn’t take in the words she was reading. With a sigh she stood, stretched and walked towards the kitchen after Mrs. Weasley. When she entered the room, Mrs. Weasley stood, hips swaying, along the counter stirring some kind of batter. 

 

“Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked.

 

Mrs. Weasley turned to face her and smiled. Her cheeks flushed and she set the bowl on the counter, embarrassed to be caught dancing in the kitchen. 

 

“I was just wondering if I could help you with dinner.” Mrs. Weasley’s face went back to its normal shade of pink as Hermione spoke. 

 

“Yes, yes, I would love some help. If you wouldn’t mind setting the table that would be lovely, dear.” Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at her batter and it continued stirring on its own. She quickly moved on to set the potatoes to peel themselves and started preparing a roast for the family. 

 

Hermione was walking toward the table with a tall stack of plates in her hand when a loud CRACK filled the room. The plates crashed to the ground. Hermione turned towards the noise too quickly and ended up on the ground with the shattered plates. With her heart in her throat, she scooted back on the heels of her hands and feet, slicing them as she went. Her breathing sped up and she cursed herself for leaving her wand in the living room. Constant vigilance. 

 

“Hiya Mum,” said one voice.

 

“Whatcha got there,” said another. 

 

“Oh, boys,” Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly, swatting at the both of them with a hand towel. “You’re early! And what did I say about apparating inside the house?” 

 

Hermione looked up from her place underneath the table and saw Fred and George. “Ow,” she groaned as the stinging in her hands and feet started. She had only been wearing socks, and not thick ones at that, so she had cut her feet as well as her hands. She crawled out as Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. 

 

“Oh, Hermione dear, you just sit right here.” She conjured up a chair for Hermione to sit on, which she did gratefully. Walking on feet that had broken pieces of ceramic embedded in them was not fun. 

 

“Hermione!” George said. “We didn’t know you came to see us!”

 

“Yeah,” Fred joined. “You know, the best place to look is our shop! But the Burrow is a good a guess as any.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and raised the back of her shaking hand to her forehead, examining the mess around her. Her breathing had settled when she had seen it was only Fred and George, but her heart still thumped painfully. 

 

“I’m not here to see you two,” she said. The boys both raised their hands to their chests in a mock wounded gesture. Hermione ignored them and continued. “I’m going to stay here for a while. And if you would like to make up for scaring eight years off my life, please, one of you get my wand from off the couch and bring it to me.”

 

“Oh, no, dear, not to worry. I will heal you right up,” Mrs. Weasley said. She whirled her wand and the plates reformed into a neat pile. As she bent to scoop them up, Hermione spoke.

 

“That’s not why I need it.” She was so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

 

Mrs. Weasley set the newly reformed plates on the table and turned to Hermione, looking into her face. “Yes, of course, dear,” she said when she saw her expression. “Fred!” She turned toward the nearest twin. 

 

“I’m George, Mum,” he grumbled. 

 

“Yes, of course, George, dear. Go get Hermione’s wand from the couch please.” Mrs. Weasley surveyed Hermione’s hands. She moved to push up Hermione’s sleeves.  
“No!” Hermione cried. At Mrs. Weasley and Fred’s startled looks she backtracked. “I mean, it stops at my hands. My arms are fine. My feet could use work though,” she added, hoping to shift the attention off her outburst onto the problem at hand. 

 

An all-business expression came over Mrs. Weasley’s face as she took hold of Hermione’s hand. “This might sting a little,” she said.

 

She waved her wand over Hermione’s palm and all the little pieces of ceramic came flying out. She directed them into a bowl on the counter as George re-entered the kitchen brandishing Hermione’s wand. Another wave of Mrs. Weasley’s wand and the small cuts closed without a trace. She smiled at her handy work and checked the back of Hermione’s hand for any more cuts and found none. She moved on to her next hand and quickly repeated the process.

 

“What happened there, Hermione?” Fred asked. 

 

“What?” She asked, looking up at him. He was holding his hand to his throat and when she looked he drew his fingers across it, almost unconsciously. Hermione’s face burned instantly and her newly healed hand drew up to cover the thin scar on her throat. She began to panic and tried to think of an answer, any answer, except the truth.

 

“That’s enough of that, young man. Now I expect your help with dinner if you plan on eating any.” Mrs. Weasley stepped in when she saw Hermione’s discomfort. 

 

Hermione shot her a grateful look. Fred still looked curious, but he had seen her discomfort as well, so he let it drop with a smile. 

 

“Well, Georgie, it looks like we are sous chefs tonight!” He conjured an apron and handed it to George with a flourish. George held it up to himself and smiled. It read, I cook as good as I look. 

 

“Which isn’t good,” Fred quipped, then danced out of the way of George’s hand.

 

Fred quickly conjured one for himself and tied it on. It read Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’. Hermione laughed at the both of them then quickly grimaced when pieces of ceramic flew out of her left foot. 

 

“That is what you get for laughing at the cooks, mademoiselle,” George said. While Hermione wasn’t looking, the twins shared a concerned look. They had seen her unnaturally pale face with fear written all over it when she had crawled out from under the table. The dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes. They rivaled even Harry’s and Ron’s. 

 

Once Mrs. Weasley had finished healing her feet, Hermione hugged her. “Thank you.”

 

“Not a problem, dear.” Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione tightly until she pulled away. 

 

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to join Ginny now.” Hermione still hadn’t unpacked and she needed a minute to compose herself. 

 

“Of course. Take as long as you need,” Mrs. Weasley encouraged. 

 

Hermione sighed as she walked up the creaky stairs. She was in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not mine.

Chapter 3

Hermione knocked on the door before going in. When she looked around she saw that it looked the same as it had the summer before and she smiled to herself. Ginny was sitting up on her bed yawning. 

 

“Morning, Sunshine,” Hermione said as she walked toward her bed in the first-floor bedroom. 

 

“Morning,” Ginny replied.

 

“What’s that noise?” Hermione asked. A strange whirring was coming from somewhere, and she couldn’t figure out where. 

 

“Oh, it’s coming from Fred and George’s room. They assured me it wasn’t dangerous.” Ginny had an amused smirk on her face. The normalcy of Fred and George’s antics was reassuring to her. 

 

“Why their bedroom and not the shop?” 

 

“Oh, they have been sleeping here. It makes Mum less worried when they are here, so they stay over sometimes.” Ginny smiled. “Just watch where you step, and you should be fine.” 

 

“Oh…” Hermione was not looking forward to any pranks.

 

“Just kidding,” Ginny said. “Mum put a ban on the pranks. Too many people are messed up from the war for that kind of thing. I mean, they’re Fred and George, so they still do it, obviously, but they are way tamer now. It’s a little weird, honestly.” Ginny had a slight frown on her face but quickly replaced it with a smile. “Come on, Hermione. I’ll help you with your stuff.”

 

When Ginny was satisfied, Hermione flopped down on the bed with a sigh. She was tired and her arm was burning. The smell of roast was wafting up the stairs, making her mouth water slightly. 

 

“I’ll go see if Harry and Ron are here yet, shall I?” Ginny said and walked out the door without waiting for an answer.

 

As soon as Ginny was gone, Hermione pulled up her sleeve and let the air hit her scar. Without the feeling of her shirt rubbing on it, her scar quickly grew from a painful burning to an annoying tingling sensation. 

 

“Harry!” Hermione heard Ginny’s excited shout and smiled. She stood up to join her friends, and when she opened the door she heard Ron.

 

“Glad to see you too, Sis.” There was a tired smile in his sarcastic voice. Hermione hurried down the stairs; it felt weird not having Harry and Ron not with her all the time. They’d been their own company for so long. 

 

When she entered the living room, Ginny had wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and didn’t appear to have any plans of moving. Ron was watching them with a slightly nauseated look on his face. He had never really gotten over seeing his sister with boys, even Harry. Seeing his arm around Ginny’s shoulders wasn’t helping him any.

 

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed when he saw her. He immediately walked toward her and pulled her into a hug. “You look about as good as I feel, mate.”

 

Hermione laughed softly. Ron had matching dark circles under his eyes. When they pulled back, Hermione looked over at Harry and smiled sadly. He had identical dark circles and a mussed mass of dark hair. He obviously hadn’t been getting enough sleep either. 

 

She walked over to him and they both reached out, hugging each other tightly. Ginny had stepped back when Hermione stepped toward Harry, allowing them to lean fully into their embrace. Hermione sniffed and pulled back. She didn’t know why there were tears in her eyes, and she was slightly embarrassed. Harry surveyed her face and returned her sad smile. Hermione, in turn, surveyed his face and was saddened to see the haunted look there. 

 

A questioning look came over his face, but Hermione just shook her head. Later, she was saying. 

 

“Dinner is ready, dears,” Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. 

 

Ginny quickly reattached herself to Harry’s side, and Hermione was happy to see him return the gesture just as eagerly. She’d been ecstatic in the sixth year when they had first started dating, and seeing how well it was going made Hermione even more happy for them. 

 

With most of the family missing, they all shifted together towards the head of the table. Arthur sat at the head with Molly to his right, and the kids filled in around them. Fred and George sat next to their mother, putting Fred in front of Hermione, with Harry to her left and Ron to her right. Ginny sat to the left of the head of the table on Harry’s left.

 

“Well aren’t we a spritely party?” Mrs. Weasley said happily. 

 

Once everyone had finished, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retreated to the living room. Everyone else took their lead and filed out of the kitchen up to Ginny’s room. The twins said they’d come by later and continued on up to the floor above to their own room. Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and smiled; they knew they were going to their room to check their...whatever it was that they had in the room.

 

Ginny and Harry took Ginny’s bed, still holding hands, while Hermione and Ron sat on the opposite bed. At one time Hermione would have considered this heaven, Ginny and Harry together, and Ron and herself dating. But that just wasn’t her dream anymore. She had changed to much, and so had Ron, and they’d agreed that being friends was best. 

 

“I’m stuffed,” said Ron.

 

“Me too,” replied Harry. “I might not have to eat for another week.”

 

The trio looked at each other, all thinking the same thing; a meal that size would have fed them for at least a week. 

 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, distracting them all from their collective thoughts. “Look at you three, you could stand not to eat for a week,” she joked. 

 

Ron grimaced; out of the three of them, going hungry was the hardest on him. Harry had been used to it by then after living at the Dursley’s for so long, and Hermione struggled in silence. She had never gone hungry in her life, but she knew there were worse things. 

 

“Too soon?” Ginny asked. 

 

“Yep,” Ron said, dropping his grimace.

 

“What happened out there?” Ginny asked. “I mean, if you guys aren’t ready to talk about it, I get it, trust me, but if you are, I’d like to hear about it. At least some of it.”   
All the Weasley’s knew something about their escapades at the Ministry, and breaking out of Gringotts on a dragon, but they didn’t know anything from before or after. When they had seen each other at Hogwarts during the Final Battle, the Weasley’s had been shocked at their ragged appearances. 

 

Ron turned to Harry and Hermione, silently asking permission to answer his sister’s question. 

 

“It’s okay, Gin,” he said at Harry and Hermione’s nods. “It was just hard. We didn’t know what we were doing half the time.” He went on to explain their adventure, with a few corrections from Hermione and Harry. Ginny sat quietly and listened attentively. Ron explained how wearing the locket made you think horrible thoughts, and all three of them shuddered in remembrance. Harry and Ron thought Hermione had been the one to handle the locket the best, but the locket directed her anger and other negative thoughts toward herself, so she never had an outburst like theirs. 

 

Ginny grimaced when Ron got to the part where he left in a Horcrux-induced rage. She knew what it felt like to have her mind altered by Voldemort, and quickly forgave Ron for abandoning his friends. Ron started talking about the snatchers, and how they had taken them to Malfoy Manor.

 

“Ron,” Harry interrupted. He looked pointedly at Hermione, who was white as the sheet she had clenched in her fists. Her eyes were wide, but she wasn’t seeing anything in front of her.

 

Ron cleared his throat. “That’s not our story to tell.”

 

Ginny was standing to go to Hermione when a CRACK filled the air. Ginny fell back onto Harry who clutched her to him like a lifeboat, and Ron’s face drained of color and he quickly took out his wand. Hermione jumped so hard she fell off the bed, hitting her head on the nightstand on her way down. Ignoring the bruise that was surely forming, she reached into her pocket and grabbed her wand, rolling over on her back as she went. 

 

Fred and George stood in the center of the room, staring at the four of them. 

 

“Fred? George?” Ginny said shrilly. “What did Mum say about apparating in the house?” 

 

The twins turned to stare at Ginny, who was still on top of Harry, and looked like she’d seen a ghost. George reached out and helped her up. 

 

“Guys,” Ron said from his side of the room. He was staring at Hermione, who was hyperventilating on the floor, clenching her wand and gritting her teeth. Harry immediately stood up and went to her. As the others stood up to join him, Harry held up his hand and stood in front of Hermione protectively. 

 

“Stop. This has happened before, and what she needs is for you all to step back right now.” Harry came and crouched in front of Hermione. She stared at him with wide eyes, breath coming in and out like a fish out of water. One hand held her wand while the other gripped her forearm. It looked like she was trying to stop the blood flow she was squeezing so tight. 

 

“Hermione?” Harry said softly. “Can you hear me? I need you to take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that, Hermione?” He reached out and took the hand that was clenching her arm so tight. Pain flashed in and out of his features when her grip tightened on his hand. He ignored it and promptly proceeded to remind her how to inhale. “In for three, out for three. That’s right, good job, Hermione. In for three, out for three.”

 

The others stood, or sat (Ginny had stayed seated. She had seen, and experienced panic attacks and knew that exactly what Hermione didn’t need was everyone closing in on her.), in silence while they waited. When Hermione could draw in a whole breath and stopped clenching her wand Harry sat back, still holding her hand. 

 

“You alright now, Hermione?” Harry asked softly. 

 

Hermione just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to stand, so she sat and waited for feeling to return to her limbs. She hated the tingling feeling she got during a panic attack. It always started on her scalp and made its way down her body, paralyzing her. Now that she was calming down, the reverse process began. 

 

Harry stood up in front of her again. “Mind explaining why you thought any part of apparating into our room was a good idea?” Harry asked in a quiet, angry voice to Fred and George. 

 

“We didn’t think,” George began. Fred was standing slightly dumbstruck next to him, still staring at Hermione. He’d known she wasn’t doing to well, but he never would have done it if he’d known it was so bad. 

 

“No, you didn’t,” said Ron. He was standing up now beside Harry, blocking Fred’s view of Hermione. Fred gave his head a little shake, seeming to snap back into himself.  
“Hermione,” Fred began. He couldn’t see her, but he needed to apologize. “I’m-we’re so sorry. We didn’t know it would upset you.” His face was pale, and in all her sixteen years of knowing him, Ginny had never seen Fred look so outright sorry for anything in his life. 

 

“It’s alright, Fred,” came a quiet, breathy voice from behind Harry and Ron. 

 

Fred just shook his head and turned to leave, grabbing George’s shoulder on the way. 

 

“Wait,” said the voice. Fred turned back to see Hermione on her feet, one hand on Harry’s shoulder for support. “You don’t have to go.”

 

Fred stood dumbstruck again. He had just scared at least another ten years off her life, and he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t angry at him. He just nodded and conjured a chair next to Ginny’s bed. George followed his lead, conjuring another right next to Fred’s. 

 

Fred watched as Hermione plopped down on her bed heavily, her face shining with a thin sheet of cold sweat. Ron took his place beside her, and Harry went back to join Ginny.   
“Well,” George said, breaking the awkward silence that had sprung up. “What were you four talking about before we so unceremoniously interrupted you?”

 

Whatever color had returned to Hermione’s cheeks drained away. 

 

“Oh, you know,” Ginny said. “We were thinking of asking you two knuckleheads to play quidditch later if you think you’re up to the challenge.” Hermione shot Ginny a thank you look. 

 

Fred saw it, but George didn’t, so he kept talking. 

 

“Anything for you little sis.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “What do you think, Fred? You up for a friendly match of quidditch?” 

 

Fred looked over with a smile prepared on his face, though he felt awful, to see George subtly scrutinizing him. It wasn’t like Fred to be so quiet, and George knew it.  
“Only if you think they can handle it, Georgie.” At Fred’s use of George’s nickname, he looked slightly relieved. 

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Freddie. We just might be too much for them to handle. What do you think, Gin?” George asked, turning to Ginny. “You think you can take us?”

 

“Oh, I think we’ll do more than take you. We’ll pound you.” George and Ginny were a little too over enthusiastic and all the others in the room knew it was an attempt to draw Fred out of his quiet shell and to help Hermione recover from her panic attack. Even Fred and Hermione knew it, so they looked up and tried to look like they were paying attention. 

 

“I agree with Ginny, George. I think you should be worried,” Hermione said. Every eye snapped to her face, and she shrunk back. Ron reached around her and put his arm around her shoulders. 

 

“She’s right George. You’d better watch out.” Ron’s tone was light, but it was underlaid with a warning. No one wanted to be the one make Hermione panic again, so they looked away. After a second Hermione patted Ron’s hand letting him know it was okay to let go and he did. 

 

Harry and Ginny had been whispering quietly together when Ginny suddenly stood, pulling Harry up with her.

 

“Quidditch match in one hour. Harry and I are going for a walk. See you then.” Then she walked out of the room with Harry in tow.   
“A walk? Sure.” Ron scoffed once the door had closed.

 

“They are.” Hermione leaned around to look Ron in the face. “I can guarantee that is all they’re doing. Ginny isn’t ready for anything more than that.”

 

Ron’s face turned bright red and he suddenly looked queasy. 

 

“You brought it up, Ronald. Don’t give me that look,” Hermione crossed her arms and gave him a hard look. 

 

“Yeah, but...It’s one thing to guess than it is to know.”

 

George snorted. “You walked into that one, Ron.” 

 

“I know,” he said gruffly. He stood up stiffly. “I’m going to get my stuff for quidditch,” and Ron walked out as well. 

 

“Well,” said George. “If the party is moving elsewhere, I guess I’ll follow,” and he turned to walk out as well. Before he stepped out he spoke again. “I am sorry, Hermione. We’ll be more careful from now on.” 

 

At Hermione’s nod, he left. Fred was the only one left in the room with Hermione. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to leave too. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

 

“Uh, Hermione.” Fed’s face was almost as red as Ron’s had been. “I just...I’m really sorry. I didn’t consider how upsetting it would be. I hope you can forgive m-us.” Fred stood up, vanished his and George’s chairs and walked to the door. 

 

“Wait,” Hermione called. When Fred turned back she was smiling. “It’s alright, Fred. I forgive you.” Fred could see the sincerity on her face, and he was relieved. He returned her smile and slipped out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione loved quidditch, she really did, but the real reason that she went that night was to get out of her head and to keep the others from worrying. Besides, the air was soft and the sun had yet to set, though it was on its way. It was beautiful. When she met the others down at their makeshift pitch, Fred had conjured up a large, red armchair for her to sit in. Hermione guessed that he still felt bad for scaring her earlier in the day, and made her thank you smile extra bright to remind him that she had forgiven him. 

 

The chair was large enough for her to sit sideways in, with her back leaning into the arm of the chair and her knees bent. She had a book on her lap and her beaded bag next to her on the seat. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. She quietly sat and read her book, enjoying the sounds of the Weasley’s and Harry playing their favorite sport. Ron had gotten over his previous embarrassment, and Hermione was glad. They played for so long that Hermione felt her eyes drifting closed, and before she knew it, she was asleep, her book falling onto her chest. 

 

~

 

Fred could see Hermione leaning her head on the back of the chair and smiled. He was glad that she was getting some sleep. He knew she must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep in such an exposed position. He turned his attention back to the game just in time to avoid getting hit in the face with their makeshift quaffle. 

 

The next time he looked down at Hermione he could see her turning her head and saying something in her sleep. He couldn’t make out her expression, so he flew a little lower. Once he could see her face more clearly he started flying faster toward her, concern welling up. She was twitching and she had tears streaking down her face. He heard voices calling out behind him, but he ignored them. 

 

He touched down and ran straight to Hermione. As he got closer, the clearer her voice became. 

 

“No…” she said, tossing her head to the other side fitfully. Sweat was making her hair stick to her neck and flushed cheeks. “I didn’t...Please…” All of a sudden she cried out, her whole body jerking. She was sent flying off the chair onto the ground, and something flew out of her hand - her wand - and landed a few feet away on the grass. Fred immediately knelt down beside her, running his hands down her arms in an attempt to wake her gently. He raised one hand and held it up to her cheek, patting it softly.

 

Her eyes flew open, shocking Fred with the unfocused fear in them. She immediately started pushing at his chest, but Fred barely felt it.

 

“Shh,” he said softly. He pushed her hair out of her face like he used to do for Ginny when she had a nightmare and took one of the hands pushing on his chest in his own. He was shocked, for the third time that day, to see Hermione so scared. He’d never even really seen her cry before. He pushed all that aside and focused on the girl in front of him. Her eyes cleared and she stopped trying to shove him away. Fred took his hand from her hair and took her other hand, gently pulling her into a seated position. 

 

A twig snapped behind them and Fred swung around. The game had stopped when the players spotted Hermione flying out of her chair like she’d been shocked. They had rushed to see what was wrong and why Fred had such a worried look on his face, and they were now standing silently, watching the pair. Harry nodded for Fred to continue, so he turned around and refocused. 

 

Hermione’s eyes were wide and staring over his shoulder and her hands were twitching in his, so he squeezed tighter. Her eyes flashed to his face and he could see she was embarrassed. She was wheezing with every inhale and hunched over.

 

“Come on, Hermione,” he said lightly. “You need to breathe deep, just like Harry said, remember?” He watched as Hermione struggled to inhale more deeply. “You got it, just like that.” He smiled encouragingly and nodded. “That’s right. In for three, out for three.” Her breathing slowed, and he watched as her gaze moved from his face to his chest, following along with the movement she saw there. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, Hermione struggling to do the same. Eventually, her breathing matched his, and he gave her hands a squeeze and said,”That’s right. You did it.” 

 

~

 

Hermione’s face flushed. Everyone was standing behind Fred watching them. She glanced at Harry, who seemed to understand.

 

“When I said I wouldn’t have to eat for another week, I was wrong. Turns out I could go for some more pastry right now.” He looked each person in the face, silently asking them to come with him.

 

“Yeah,” said Ron. “I could eat a few.” And they all turned to the house, talking quietly about pastries as they went.

 

When they were gone, Hermione looked down at her hands and was a little surprised to see she was still clenching Fred’s in hers. Blushing anew, she loosened her grip but didn’t let go. When Fred spoke, she flinched.

 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Hermione looked up at Fred’s face, her expression saying, yes, I do, and I am. “Seriously. Everyone has nightmares, especially them.” Fred gestured up to the house, never letting go of her hands. “Why do you think Ginny can’t sleep at night, and when she does sleep it’s only for a few hours at a time? Ron sleeps at Grimmauld Place with Harry every night because they’re the only ones who can comfort each other besides you. Even I have nightmares, Hermione.”

 

Hermione looked fully into his face, catching no sign of a lie. She tilted her head slightly, wondering what his nightmares contained. Was it the Final Battle, his time during the war, or something else entirely? 

 

“How do you stay so positive?” she asked suddenly. “You and George, you just...You hardly seem affected by it, even though I know you must be. So how do you do it? Keep smiling, and make others smile too, I mean.” Hermione searched his face while he pondered his answer.

 

“George and I are in the business of making others smile. We’ve already seen so much in our lives, and we’re just kids. I guess I just want to...not put it behind me, we shouldn’t forget this, but to move on. And every day I see it, I see customers in the shop who have a haunted look about them like they can never unsee the horrible things in their lives, and they can’t. But maybe, just for a little, I can make them laugh, or even just smile. And I come home every night to see my mum staring at her clock, waiting for my dad’s hand to turn to ‘mortal peril’ when he is five minutes late coming home from work. I see my little sister tortured by the things she’s witnessed, unable to even talk about what happened at Hogwarts. Sometimes she’ll let something slip, like instead of detention they had Crucio used on the students, among other things,” At the mention of the Cruciatus curse, Hermione shrank into herself. “Ginny hates what she remembers in the dark.” Fred shook his head. “So when I come home, I want them to see that the war didn’t break me. And I want them to see that they aren’t broken either; changed, maybe, but not broken. No one can be positive all the time, not even George and I. But it helps that we have each other.” Fred had been looking out past the trees at the last rays of the sun, but he turned to look at Hermione again. “You aren’t alone, you know. You have all of us. If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Thanks. And you don’t just have George you know. Your family loves you, whether you are happy that day or not. I’m here too if you ever need to be down for a while. You don’t even have to talk. Just sit, if you want.” Hermione was slightly embarrassed, but Fred’s words quickly changed that.

 

“Yeah?” He asked, smiling. 

 

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, smiling back.

 

“I’d like that.” 

 

“So it’s a deal.” Fred looked amused. “You come to me if you need a time-out, and I’ll come to you if I want to talk about it. Harry doesn’t really like to talk about what happened much.” She raised her hand in a what can you do gesture. 

 

“Is that why you don’t want to stay at Grimmauld Place?” Fred asked.

 

Hermione paled. “No, I-I-” Fred interrupted.

 

“You don’t have to tell me right now. Maybe that’s a story for another time.” He had seen her pale and wanted her to know she didn’t owe him any information. The color slowly returned to her cheeks and she sent him a grateful smile. 

 

Fred reached back, grabbing Hermione’s wand and handing it to her. 

 

“You might want this,” he said. He stood up, pulling her with him. He grabbed her book and bag off the chair before vanishing it in a wave of his wand. 

 

They didn’t speak on their way up to the house; the silence was comforting. Instead, they got lost in their own thoughts. They were both aware that they could break the silence between them, but after such a deep conversation, neither wanted to. They just wanted to relish in each other's quiet company, and that’s what they did.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione felt sick. It’d been months since she had gotten a good night's rest, and she spent every day in a sort of haze, wondering vaguely if there was something she was supposed to be doing. When she thought of something she could do, she felt a wave of anxiety about not doing it, but for some reason, she couldn’t make herself do it. 

 

She was attracting a lot of attention, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t left the house since the quidditch match a few days prior. And once, she’d been trying to set the table for dinner, when all of a sudden she had a wave of dizziness and had to grip to edge of the table so she didn’t fall over. Fred and George had been so swamped with mail orders that they hadn’t been back and Mrs. Weasley was increasingly worried. 

 

Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley had received a note from them telling her they could make it to dinner that night. She’d made three different pies in preparation. Even Harry was coming with Ron. They hadn’t been back since the quidditch match either, and Hermione felt on edge and constantly worried them. The press must have been outrageous; Harry had told her the night of the quidditch match that he’d had to apparate right off the steps because the street was swarming with reporters. 

 

It was an hour before dinner when Hermione was startled out of staring at the wall. 

 

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, peeking her head in the door. “Harry’s here.”

 

“Oh,” Hermione said as she started to stand.

 

Another head peeked in the door and a bright smile spread across Hermione’s face.

 

“Harry,” she breathed. She felt a little weight lift off her shoulders at the sight of his messy, black hair and tired smile. 

 

He stepped in after Ginny and walked out to meet her, arms outstretched. He grabbed her in a tight embrace, squashing her face against his chest. 

 

“Can’t...breathe…” she gasped laughingly. He automatically loosed his grip but didn’t let go. “Harry?” she asked. She was beginning to be concerned.

 

He stepped back and held her at arm's length to take in the sight of her.

 

“It’s been weird not seeing you every day. Is that weird? Merlin, I missed you,” Harry said. He hugged her again for a second before letting go.

 

“No, it’s not weird. I missed you too,” Hermione replied. “Where’s Ron?” she asked.

 

Harry waved his hand, trying to cover up a flinch at Ron’s name. Concern flew up at Hermione like a bat out of a dungeon.

 

“Mrs. Weasley caught him on the way up and is demanding he eats something even though dinner in really soon. I barely managed to escape.”

 

“Oh yes, he was quite brave,” Ginny said, watching the pair. 

 

She was glad to see Hermione looking a little less tense and made a mental note to get Harry and Ron over for dinner more since it obviously made them all feel better.

 

Hermione smiled.

 

“I’m sure you were. I hope you are prepared for pie because Mrs. Weasley made three,” she said.

 

Harry groaned. 

 

“Are you staying tonight?” Hermione asked suddenly, her grip on his arm tightening painfully. 

 

Harry looked at her again and seemed to sadden. Hermione immediately let go of his arm and tried to put on a brave face to take the panic out of her voice.

 

“No worries,” she said, waving her hand lightly as if gesturing ‘no big deal’.

 

“No, I’ll stay.” Harry grabbed her hand and smiled. “You come up to the attic with Ron and I and we’ll have a nice talk, right?” 

 

Hermione nodded, obviously relieved. 

 

They both turned to Ginny, who looked a little conflicted. She knew that Harry and Hermione had slept in the same bed sometimes after Ron left, and she understood. But she didn’t know how she felt about the tradition carrying over. When she saw Hermione’s face, she immediately decided if that was what it took for them to feel better, she could be okay with that. 

 

On the trip down the stairs, Hermione tightened her grip on the rail and stopped, head bowed and breath coming out slowly.

 

“Hermione?” Harry asked, placing a warm hand on her back.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Just dizzy,” she said, trying for a smile.

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Have you been sleeping at all?” he asked. He knew from past experiences that when Hermione had too little sleep, she would have horrible dizzy spells. One time during their fifth year, she’d had to sit down on the moving staircases so she wouldn’t topple down them. 

 

“Nope,” was Hermione’s only reply.

 

Harry gave her a half smile and threw his arm around her waist.

 

“Come on then, Hermione,” Harry said. “If you can’t sleep, at least eat something.”

 

He faithfully led her down the stairs, keeping a constant hold on her just in case she fell forward. When they entered the kitchen with Ginny, Mrs. Weasley shot them both concerned looks. Hermione met Fred’s brown eyes and gave him a weak smile. Harry casually helped her to her usual seat.

 

“Nothing to worry about, all. Just a little tired is all,” Harry said, with a special emphasis on ‘tired’. 

 

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, bustling towards the table with a huge bowl of salad. “Make sure you eat dinner tonight, young lady,” Mrs. Weasley scolded. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you giving Crookshanks food under the table.”

 

Laughter resounded around the table and Hermione felt heat rise in her face. Merlin, she thought she’d been sneaky. A smile of her own graced her tired features as she looked at Harry and Ginny beside her. She could see they were holding hands under the table, Harry’s thumb tracing patterns over Ginny’s creamy skin. When she met Ginny’s eyes, she was quick to wiggle her eyebrows at her friend suggestively, looking pointedly at the couples clasped hands. 

 

Ginny rolled her eyes in response, even as her lips quirked into an amused smile. “Shh,” she mouthed to her curly-haired friend.

 

Hermione let out a quiet laugh and nodded, winking at the couple. Harry turned beet red at an impressive rate, and Ginny laughed at her easily embarrassed boyfriend.

 

Over the table, Hermione caught Fred’s eyes on her. She rolled her eyes and tilted her head at Harry and Ginny, and his confused expression clearing to one of amusement. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and sent an over exaggerated wink to make her laugh again, which she did, albeit quietly. 

 

Over the course of the meal, Hermione noticed that Ron and Harry seemed to avoid looking at each other, and they weren’t speaking at all. She felt anxiety take hold more and more and couldn’t wait to talk to the both of them. 

 

Finally, when everyone finished, Hermione took both of her boys by the arms and dragged them towards the stairs. 

 

“Wait, I wanted one more treacle tart!” Ron protested. Laughter rang out from the kitchen behind them. Hermione ignored all of Ron’s protests (Harry was strangely silent) and forcibly took them up the stairs to Ron’s bedroom.

 

“You both are going to talk to me right now, and I will get to the bottom of whatever it is that happened between you two. Now talk,” Hermione demanded, pushing both boys to sit down on Ron’s bed.

 

“Merlin, Hermione,” Ron said, rubbing his arm. “You didn’t have to be so aggressive.”

 

“Yes, she did. You have something to tell her, don’t you, Ron?” Harry asked. His voice was a touch cooler than usual, and he sat facing his increasingly nervous friend.

 

Ron fidgeted where he sat, but said nothing.

 

“What?” Hermione said anxiously. “What is it? Tell me, please.”

 

Ron looked up and searched her face, his expression too serious for Hermione’s comfort. 

 

“Hermione,” he started slowly. “Yesterday, Harry and I received an owl from Kingsley. He’s the new Minister, you know, so to have him personally send this is quite a big deal-”

 

“Get to the point, Ron,” Harry interrupted. 

 

“Yeah, right, so he asked us if we would be willing to help him track down the remaining Death Eaters.” 

 

Hermione felt her heart sink. Please, no.

 

“You said yes, didn’t you?” She whispered hoarsely. 

 

“Hermione, I-” Whatever he was about to say died on his lips. “I did.”

 

Hermione turned away from the boys, eyes closed and jaw tense. 

 

“Hermione-” 

 

“Give me a minute, Ron.” Hermione needed to calm down before she spoke to either of them. After a few deep breaths and mentally counting to ten (a few times), Hermione turned to face her friends. 

 

“Before we talk about this,” a pointed look at Ron, who looked down at his clasped hands between his knees, “I need to know. Are you going too, Harry?”

 

Hermione stared earnestly at him, waiting for the final blow that was sure to come. 

 

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know if I want to be an Auror anymore...We’ve fought enough, right?” 

 

The wave of relief Hermione felt sent her backward onto Harry’s bed. “Right.” Hermione sent him as bright a smile as she could muster at her green-eyed friend before turning back to Ron. “Okay. We are going to talk about this Ronald Weasley. You are going to tell us why you are doing this, and you are going to tell us now.”

 

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

 

“Right,” Ron started awkwardly. “I guess I know I still want to be an Auror, and this is one way to get there.”

 

“There are less dangerous ways,” Hermione interjected. “You are eighteen, Ron, and we haven’t even taken our N.E.W.T.s yet.”

 

“See, but this way, I don’t have to take them,” Ron said excitedly. “The part we played in the war was qualification enough. All I have to do is go through the training and lend a hand tracking the Death Eaters, and I can be an Auror.”

 

“Ron, that....” Hermione didn’t know what to say. She knew school wasn’t for Ron; Merlin knows he struggled enough at Hogwarts. “That’s great, but…”

 

“What Hermione is trying to say is she is worried about you, mate, and so am I,” Harry spoke. 

 

“I get that, I do, but I have to do this!” Ron said, desperation creeping in.

 

“Why?” Hermione demanded.

 

“Because!” he exploded. “Don’t you see? I have to do this. I have to do this for abandoning you two that night in the forest! I have to do it for myself, to know I can be something different than everyone else in my family! I have to do it for all the people that were murdered by those-”

 

“Ron, please!” Hermione cried. “You don’t have to do this! We’ve already forgiven you for that night! It hurt a lot, but we forgave you. And you are different from everyone in your family, Ron. Look at us! We can’t even leave our houses without the press bombarding us! And those people that were killed - they were not your fault! We went as quickly as we could, please don’t do this!” Hermione begged. Tears were in her eyes, about to escape, but she either didn’t care or just wasn’t aware.

 

“Hermione, I-” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing. “I need this, Hermione. I’m sorry you don’t want me to, but I have to.”

 

Hermione sat in stunned silence for about five seconds before standing abruptly. 

 

“Hermione, wait,” Ron called after her as she reached for the door handle.

 

“No, Ron,” she said, her back still towards them. “I just need tonight, alright? We will talk tomorrow, but I need tonight. Sleep well, alright, boys?” She was out the door before they could respond. 

 

She stumbled blindly down the stairs, tears coming too fast for her to blink them away. Ron. Ron was leaving. How could he? He said he had to do it for abandoning them, but he was leaving again. That didn’t make any sense-

 

A strong pair of arms took her arm and pulled her into a room. Her hand automatically went to her wand when the sound of the door shutting reached her. It was up and aimed before you could say ‘wait’. 

 

“Woah!”

 

“Fred?!”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Fred have a pretty deep conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun with this one, guys. Sorry it took so long to update.:(

Chapter 6

“Fred?” Hermione asked, lowering her wand and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Yes. Merlin, you are quick,” Fred said with a quiet laugh. 

Hermione gave a slightly bitter smile in return. “Yes, well, constant vigilance, right?” An almost awkward silence stretched between the two. “I’m sorry, that was-”

“Hey, you come to me when you want to talk, right? Even if it’s from your jaded war hero perspective.” The tears had vanished when her rush of adrenaline kicked in, so she could see his sincerity.

“Thanks.”

Fred turned around and walked toward what she assumed was his bed, giving her an opportunity to take in his room. Two twin beds were shoved up against opposite sky blue walls, both with nightstands beside them and a large window between those. She gasped excitedly when she saw the wall with the doorway in it was filled ceiling to floor with books. 

“This used to be Dad’s study when there were less kids in the family,” Fred said, amusement evident in his tone. 

Hermione let her fingers trace the spines of the books in front of her. “I had no idea this was here.”

“It’s not the most popular feature in the house,” agreed Fred. “Percy and Dad are the only ones who really use it. Ginny sometimes stops by for a book, but most of the ones she reads are in her room.”

Hermione turned away from the books and faced him with a smile on his face. “Yes, I saw her secret stash of romances,” she laughed.

Fred’s face lit up so quickly it was comical. “She has a secret stash of romance novels?”

Hermione laughed harder, holding her sides as her frame shook with mirth. “No, she doesn’t,” she gasped out. “She does have a lot of quidditch magazines, though.” Hermione wiggled her eyebrows. “With lots of nice looking quidditch players in them.”

Fred joined in her laughter until, with an ever bright smile on his face, he quieted and patted the bed next him where he sat with his back to the wall and his legs hanging over the edge. 

Hermione crossed the room and crawled up onto his bed. When she leaned her back onto the wall she let out an involuntary hiss and sat forward like she’d been burned.

“What?” Fred asked worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she breathed, eyes closed and head in her hands. 

Fred scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t believe that. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but don’t lie, okay?”

Hermione felt embarrassment rise up in her and she peeked at him through her fingers. With a sigh, she let her hands fall away from her face. “I’m sorry, Fred. I just - I just-”

“Hey, listen,” Fred said, looking like he wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know if that would help or hurt. “If you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s fine, yeah? I’m not expecting you to just up and tell me everything first go, Hermione. If you want to tell me I’ll listen, but if you want to wait, I will.”

Hermione sighed again, suddenly grateful for Fred. “I - I won’t tell you the whole story just now. But I will tell you that I have a lot of…” Hermione let out a soft cough. “Ehm, I have a lot of poisoned scars. Most on my torso, unfortunately. I guess they just want to hurt today. Better just the ones on my back than all of them, yeah?” She said with a tight laugh. 

She risked a glance at Fred, momentarily worried about what she would see. All her worries were put to rest when simple understanding looked back at her. Of course, he was curious and concerned as well - who wouldn’t be - but he was polite enough to let her say only what she was ready for. And she loved him for it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Fred asked softly. 

Hermione shook her head. “No, it’s not that bad today, actually. Sometimes even my shirt irritates them. A couple of times the pain went down my thighs too, even though there is only one scar right here.” Hermione lightly traced the outside of her left thigh through her jeans. “That doesn’t happen that often, though,” she said, trying to shake off her melancholy mood. 

They were silent for a moment (honestly, what do you say to that besides the usual ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, that must really suck?’). 

“So what did the boys say to make you cry?” Fred said eventually.

Hermione looked up from the yellow bedspread with little brooms on it (Hermione loved it) and met Fred’s deep brown eyes. After a moment she hauled herself off the bed and began pacing, hands running through her hair. 

“Ronald has informed me that he is...involved with the tracing and imprisonment of the Death Eaters that managed to escape.” Hermione stopped and turned to face him, Ron’s brother. “I don’t know when he plans to tell the family, and I’m sorry to have told you before he did, but I just…” Hermione waved her hands in a helpless gesture. 

“That idiot,” Fred says dryly. 

Hermione studied the redhead in front of her. “Did you expect this?”

Fred was silent for a moment, considering. “Not exactly...But I can’t say I’m surprised either. Ron has always hated being the youngest, hated not doing things first or the best, in his opinion. I really think that’s what drew him to Harry in the first place. He stuck around because Harry is great, obviously, but in the beginning, he just wanted to be friends with a celebrity. So no, I’m not surprised.”

Hermione sighed heavily and sat back down next to Fred. “No, I can’t say I am either. That doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed, though. He left before, you know. He always leaves when things get tough.”

“He left during your mission?” Fred asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded slowly, not looking at the man next to her. “Yes. It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. He’d been wearing the Horcrux for too long at that point and his mind wasn’t fully under his control.”

“Are you telling me you wore one of U-No-Poo’s Horcruxes?” 

Hermione nodded slowly again. “Yes. We took turns. We had to make sure one of us had it at all times, just in case.” 

“You, my friend, have balls of steel.” Fred’s tone was so deadpanned, Hermione had to laugh, even as another tear slipped down her cheek. 

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said with a sad smile. “Harry is the one with the steel balls. He is always alone in the end, you know? Almost every time he had to face Voldemort, he was by himself, ever since he was eleven. Can you imagine? He doesn’t even know what to do with himself now that he has fulfilled the prophecy. He always wanted to be an Auror, but now...Now I think he just wants some peace, you know? He deserves it.”

Fred nodded solemnly, leaning his head back on the wall behind him. “I can imagine. Or, at least, I think I can. I will never know exactly how it feels to be Harry, of course, but I think I can imagine. He came by the shop the other day for lunch with Georgie and I. He told us about the Horcruxes, and how he was one. That must have been horrible. Knowing you had to die - to be willing to die - at just the right moment? It’s sick. I think he feels like his whole life has been a lie, you know? Like all he had to do was live up to that moment, and now that he is the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice he can’t decide what to do with this new life. Scratch the steel balls, that man is made of titanium.” Fred huffed a short, incredulous laugh. 

“That’s the truth. Accepting your own death and then miraculously living is a hard transition.” Hermione looked back down to where her fingers were tracing one of the brooms. 

“Did you?”

“What?” Hermione looked up through her hair to see Fred’s brown eyes studying her.

“Did you accept your death?” 

Hermione shook her head, thinking. “No… not exactly… I mean, I certainly knew it was a possibility, but I had too much to do to focus on that. At one point I wished for it, just so the pain would stop, but here I am.” She gave a weak shrug. “It only took half an hour, too. Guess I’m not that brave, huh?”

Fred paled. “Half an hour of what?”

Hermione looked away, out the window to the backyard where George and Ginny sat polishing their brooms, squinting in the dark. “Half an hour of torture.”

She studied the way the wind was blowing the clouds as she waited for an answer. An echo of Bellatrix’s laughter rang in her ears and her fist clenched around the soft yellow fabric of Fred’s bedspread. When Fred’s fingers traced her knuckles she flinched. Instead of looking at him, she watched his hand uncurl her own and place it in his. The warmth that radiated from him to her helped soothe the tangle of anxiety in her chest. 

“I think that warrants balls of steel, no? It doesn’t matter how long you endured for, it just matters that you did. You are one of the bravest people I will ever meet, Hermione, and don’t let anyone - including yourself - tell you that you aren’t.”

Hermione let loose a long exhale that wasn’t quite a sigh and leaned forward until her forehead was resting on Fred’s thigh. With their joined hands comfortingly clasped to her chest, she spoke. 

“You are really a great person, you know? You make everyone around you feel better about themselves just by talking to them. You make me feel better about myself.” She let her heavy eyes drift closed, the exhaustion of the last few days coming up to greet her again. “You’re great.”

“And you’re tired,” Fred said amusedly. “Harry was right. Have you been sleeping at all?”

“Hmm-mmm,” Hermione hummed, shaking her head slightly. “Can’t sleep through the night anymore.”

Hermione felt a hand drop down on her head, petting lightly. “You can sleep now if you like. I will watch out for you.” 

Hermione thought vaguely that she should probably head to her own bed, but she was too comfortable with one of Fred’s hands clasped in hers, close to her chest, and the other carding gently through her curly hair. She turned over so she could lay on her side, facing his stomach.

“M’kay,” she murmured. Sleep came like a gentle wave, carrying her out to sea with the sound of Fred’s light breathing and his warm hand in hers.


	7. Chapter 7

Fred sat quietly in the darkened room, listening to the sound of Ginny and George laughing outside, his own heartbeat, and Hermione’s deep breathing. Even as she slept, he kept petting her hair, loving the softness of her slightly frizzy curls. 

 

With a sigh, he tilted his head to rest on the wall behind him, wincing at the crick in his neck. As deftly as he could, he shifted a pillow from the head of his bed to between his back and the wall. The sleeping girl shifted once but did not wake, to Fred’s relief. 

 

This girl...she was a wonder. So strong and brave, even though it pained him to hear her demean herself in such a way. He was aching to know who it was that tortured her, and how, though he wouldn’t ask her. No, he wanted her to be able to trust him enough to tell him because she wanted him to know, not just because he asked her to sate his curiosity. 

 

When he thought about her telling him of her poisoned scars he barely repressed a growl. He was glad she had waited a beat before looking at him after she had spoken, because when he first heard the news, he had to admit that he was shocked and beyond angry. 

 

He heard Ginny and George start walking towards the back door, and he hurried to send George a Patronus message telling him to be quiet when he came into their room. He left the ‘why’ as a surprise. 

 

When George cracked the door open with barely a squeak, Fred was grateful. When he saw Hermione on the bed, however, Fred barely contained his amused snort at his twin’s expression.

 

“Please tell me I do not look like that when I am shocked,” Fred said quietly. 

 

George looked from him to Hermione and back again before responding. “When did this happen?” He quirked a red eyebrow, glancing pointedly at Fred’s hand, which had yet to cease their petting motions. 

 

“When did what happen?”

 

George just raised his eyebrow higher and crossed his arms, obviously waiting for a better answer. 

 

Fred sighed deeply. “This isn’t what you think it is, Georgie.”

 

George snorted loudly and Hermione whimpered slightly before pressing her forehead into the space where Fred’s hip met his thigh, tightening her grip on his hand. Fred shushed her whilst glaring at George, who looked suitably contrite. 

 

“How’d you get her to go to sleep?” George asked curiously.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

George rolled his eyes and sat down on his own bed, mirroring Fred’s position. “I mean, Ginny told me it’s taken hours for Hermione to go to sleep recently, and when she does get to sleep, it isn’t for very long.”

 

Fred’s eyebrows rose this time, straight up towards his hairline. “She was just tired, so I let her fall asleep here,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his petting hand. “I heard her crying on the way down from Ron’s room, and she told me that he’s joining forces with the Aurors to track down the last Death Eaters. Right git he is, leaving them again. She said he left during their hunt too.”

 

George sighed heavily and leaned back on the wall behind him. “Can’t say I’m surprised, Gred. About the Death Eaters, not the leaving. Well, maybe I’m not surprised about him leaving either, but that is a different discussion. No wonder Hermione’s conked out then - crying will do that to you. Especially if you are already exhausted. Are you going to wake her up?” he asked quietly.

 

“Of course not,” Fred said. “If she is comfortable right now, I don’t want to move her, especially since she hasn’t slept well in so long.”

 

“Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s too comfortable to move?” George asked with a broad smile and wiggling eyebrows. 

 

Fred winced as he shifted. “Nah, mate, I can honestly tell you I am very uncomfortable right now, but I still don’t want to move.”

 

“You can’t sleep upright, Gred. Just lay down gently, and she won’t wake up.”

 

“She is a really light sleeper. I had to move at a snail’s pace just to get this pillow,” Fred groaned, gesturing with his chin to the pillow behind his back. 

 

“You still can’t sleep sitting up. Move at a snail’s pace again if you have to, but lay down already. You are giving me a backache just looking at you.” George shook his head in exasperation at his twin. “It’ll be alright, mate, seriously. Even if she does wake up, it won’t be the end of the world.”

 

Fred scowled but obeyed his twin. He eased down until he was leaning on his elbow on the bed, wondering just how he was supposed to get out of the strange angle he found himself in. 

 

“Uh, Forge?” he called quietly. “I require assistance.”

 

George rolled his eyes but got up. He shifted Hermione as gently as possible until her head was on the bed and not Fred’s leg. She tightened her grip on his hand and curled inwards, leaving Fred enough room to lay normally on the bed. When he tugged her up to lay beside him instead of by his hips, her eyes snapped open with an accompanying gasp. She immediately started tugging her wrists free of his grasp, which he allowed right away.

 

“Shh,” he soothed lowly. “It’s alright Hermione. Come back now.”

 

She glanced around to room, noticing a frozen George standing at the foot of the bed and a tired looking Fred. Her eyelids immediately started drooping again when she found no danger.

 

“Come up here, love, you’ll be more comfy this way.” Both boys froze at the term of endearment, but Hermione didn’t seem bothered.

 

“‘Kay,” she said, slightly hoarse. She pushed at his leg. “Move over. I want to sleep on the inside.”

 

Fred hurried to shift over as far as he could on the small bed. Hermione seemed satisfied and crawled up on her hands and knees to rest her head on the pillow next to his. She slumped down and patted the pillow in front of her face. 

 

“Come on, Fred,” she said sleepily, eyes already closed. “You’re warm, lay down.”

 

George let out a quiet snort as his brother laid back gingerly. “Are you sure you are comfortable here with us, Hermione?” he asked sincerely. 

 

Hermione cracked one tired eye open. “George, I lived with two boys in a tent for a year, I think I can handle being in a bedroom with you. But if you want to make me more comfortable, you can donate your throw blanket to me. I’m cold.”

 

“Oh, no,” George said mischievously. “You have a bedmate and I am all by my lonesome. I get the blanket and you get the guy, deal?”

 

Hermione opened her eyes long enough to roll them at his antics. “As you wish, George. Now stop talking, I’m tired. If you keep this up, I won’t be able to go back to sleep.”

 

George sobered and went to his own bed. 

 

Fred turned on his side to face Hermione, who had her eyes closed again. “Hermione,” he whispered.

 

“Hmm,” she hummed.

 

“I’m going to spell the blanket on top of us now, alright?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” she said, already half asleep. “Hurry up, I’m cold.”

 

“We know,” George spoke from his side of the room. “That’s, like, the third time you’ve said that.”

 

“Shut it, Forge,” both Hermione and Fred said at the same time. 

 

Hermione’s eyes flashed open and all three occupants of the room froze. 

 

“That was eerie,” George said. 

 

Fred nodded his agreement and stared, awestruck, at Hermione, who was staring back, just as amazed as Fred.

 

“Freaky,” she whispered. 

 

George and Fred cracked up at the same time. “Looks like you’re a-”

 

“-Weasley twin now.”

 

“Welcome to the club," they finished together. 

 

“I’m flattered, boys,” Hermione said, closing her eyes again. “I have no doubt that means you have something planned for me now, but can it wait until the morning?”

 

“Of course, Hermione,” both twins said mischievously.

 

Hermione huffed and settled closer to Fred, tilting her head towards his chest and leaving barely an inch between them. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, preparing for sleep once more. 

 

“You know, if Mum sees this she will go ballistic,” George commented idly. 

 

Two accompanying groans met his ears and his bright laugh sounded. 

 

~

 

Hermione woke with a harsh start to find a pleasantly heavy arm over her waist, holding her close to a warm body. She gripped Fred’s hand to her chest, keeping her tethered. Somehow she had turned to her other side and had her back pressed against Fred’s stomach. Her legs desperately wanted to curl, but the bed was too small. She frowned lazily and pushed back against Fred, wanting more room. 

 

“You’re going to push me off,” Fred said blearily, tightening his grip on her waist to keep himself from falling. 

 

Hermione froze. “Sorry,” she said, barely more coherent than her bedmate. “What time is it?” she asked, not wanting to open her eyes yet. 

 

Fred hummed his protests but rolled over and grabbed his wand from the nightstand. “Only 6:45,” he groaned.

 

“Only 6:45?” Hermione asked, incredulous. “I usually wake up at 4:30.”

 

Fred huffed and laid back down, this time on his back. “The birds aren’t even up yet at 4:30. Mum isn’t even up yet at 4:30,” he groused. 

 

“I don’t want to be awake that early, but my body clock is off, and that’s not counting the nightmares. 4:30 is an optimistic estimation.”

 

“That is very unfortunate. Have you ever tried Dreamless Sleep?” Fred asked quietly, throwing one arm over his eyes.

 

“Of course I have,” Hermione replied shortly. “Sorry. I just … didn’t appreciate it’s addictive qualities.” Her cheeks flushed. She’d tried it right after the final battle and had quickly become too dependent for her liking. 

 

Fred just hummed an acknowledgment. “Is that why Harry doesn’t take it? Or my idiot brother?” 

 

The reminder of just how much of an idiot Ron was hurt. “Harry is just so used to nightmares that he doesn’t really consider the option of a sleeping aid. Or maybe he does, but just doesn’t want to become dependant like I did.” She tried to say it casually. “Ron knows for certain if he tried it he would, so he refrains. It’s a really wise decision.” 

 

“At least there’s that.”

 

“At least there’s that,” Hermione repeated. She groaned quietly. “Why is he so stupid?”

 

Fred was quiet for a moment. “Who are we to say this isn’t the best choice for him, though? Hear me out,” he said, shifting over on his side noisily so he could see her face. “Ron is the sixth son in a seven kid family. He grew up practically underneath us and rarely got anything just for him. Ginny comes along and Mum dotes on her. Ron is… well, not forgotten, but often overlooked. He becomes the best friend of a celebrity and is overlooked there too. In school he was never the best, so his teachers fail to notice him as well. Now, I think he sees hunting down Death Eaters as a way to make a name for himself by himself and not as Harry Potter’s best friend or the youngest son in a large family. And I think he feels bad for leaving during the Horcrux hunt.”

 

Hermione stewed over that. “I understand that - I do. I just don’t see how he doesn’t understand how wonderful he is. He is his own person, and I think he is just stuck in the same mindset he has been in since I met him on the Hogwarts Express.”

 

“That’s probably true. But I think doing this will help him see that. Of course, I wish he wouldn’t; that prat has worried Mum enough over the last year, not to mention his time at Hogwarts. But he needs to figure it out for himself. Ron has never done well with people telling him what to do.”

 

Hermione snorted. “That is an understatement if I ever heard one.” She sighed heavily. “I told him I’d talk to him about it.”

 

“Are you worried about it?”

 

“Of course I’m worried!” Hermione put her hand over her eyes. “I see your point, though. I will try to hear him out all the way. I’m just so glad Harry isn’t doing it with him.”

 

Fred snorted softly. “Harry doesn’t even need to work if he doesn’t want to. He needs to take a little time, responsibility-free, and just sort out his stuff before it drowns him. I have never met anyone with so much on his shoulders for so long. He is one of the bravest people I have ever met.”

 

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed quietly. “He really is.”

 

They both quieted when they heard George stirring from across the room.

 

“I should probably go,” whispered Hermione. She sighed. “Ginny will be wondering if I don’t come down soon. She thinks I spent the night with the boys. Harry is the best at waking me up from nightmares.” She stilled suddenly. “Oh my gods,” she breathed. “I didn’t have any nightmares. Fred! I didn’t have any nightmares!”

 

Fred smiled brightly at her. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. 

 

“Do you know how long it has been since I slept with no nightmares? Merlin. You are a miracle worker, Fred Weasley.”

 

“I try,” he said magnanimously. 

 

She snorted and slapped his chest lightly.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny catches Hermione coming back from the twins' room, and Ron comes clean to the family.

Chapter 8

When Hermione snuck into Ginny’s room, the first thing she saw was her friend sitting on her bed, arms crossed across her chest and a smug expression on her face. 

 

“So. Where were you?” Ginny asked as Hermione closed the door with a soft snick.

 

“Um,” Hermione started eloquently. “Sleeping?”

 

“Hmm,” Ginny said, tapping a finger against her chin and eyeing Hermione. “I know you weren’t here last night because I was. I also know you were not with Harry and Ron because I went up there this morning and they said you’d left before any of you went to sleep. And I am quite sure you did not sleep on the couch, considering Mum and Dad were sitting out there talking until ten o’clock last night. So. Where were you?”

 

“With Fred,” Hermione murmured quietly.

 

“What was that?” Ginny asked significantly. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

 

“With Fred!” Hermione said loudly, then immediately clapped both hands over her mouth. 

 

“With Fred, huh?” Ginny asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “How was that?”

 

“We just slept Ginny, I’m serious. Well, we talked for a bit, and then I fell asleep on him and then George came in and made us both get into a more comfortable position so we didn’t wake up with the biggest crick in our necks and then we went to sleep.”

 

“You fell asleep?” Ginny asked, incredulous.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Well, dang,” Ginny said, sitting back and uncrossing her arms. “Fred must be some kind of miracle worker because you-” Ginny pointed a finger at Hermione, “-haven’t slept in ages.”

 

Hermione breath escaped in a rush as she flopped back on her bed, neck twisted to face her friend. “I told him that, and you want to know what he said? He said ‘I try’.”

 

Ginny grinned. “That sounds like him.”

 

Hermione smiled back.

 

“Hey, Ron told me he has some big news,” Ginny said suddenly, smile falling away. “Do you know what it is?”

 

Hermione sighed heavily. “Yes, I do. But I won’t tell you, Ginny. It needs to be him.”

 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Ginny asked, visibly struggling for calm for a moment before a carefully blank expression came over her normally expressive face. 

 

“It depends,” Hermione said evasively. Ginny opened her mouth to plead more information, but Hermione raised her hand before she got any words out. “I can’t tell you, Ginny. Please… wait for Ron. I’m sure he will tell everyone this morning.”

 

Ginny glowered. “Yes, he said he’d spill at breakfast this morning. Even Dad will be here this morning, though I don’t think Ron knows that. If it is bad then I’m glad Dad is there. Mum might blow a gasket.”

 

Hermione nodded solemnly but otherwise didn’t answer. Ginny sighed and shifted, laying down in a mirror image to Hermione’s position, arms behind her head and staring at the ceiling, thoughts on Hermione’s vague words and her brother.

 

*

Ron cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. It took a moment, but when Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all quieted down immediately, so did Molly and Arthur.

 

Ron had a slight green tinge to his face, but he straightened up and spoke clearly, a comforting sign to Hermione. 

 

“I received a letter from Minister Shacklebolt a few days ago,” he began, strangely formally for him. “He asked if we - Harry and I - would be willing to help track down the Death Eaters on the run.”

 

“No,” Mrs. Weasley said softly.

 

Ron looked pained but continued on. “Harry said no,” a sound of relief escaped Ginny, “ - and I… I said yes. It will involve some travel, but the Ministry is willing to overlook the N.E.W.T. requirements if I successfully complete their training courses and assist with this.”

 

“No,” Mrs. Weasley said more firmly. “No, you can’t do this, you have to finish at Hogwarts and then decide -”

 

“Mum,” Ron interrupted. “I am eighteen - over the age to make my own decisions. I had hoped you would be supportive of my decision.” His speech had a rehearsed quality to it. 

 

“I think it might be good,” Hermione added smoothly, stoic in the face of the (quite loud) protests ringing around the table. “No, listen, please. Ron is right; he can make his own decisions. He was a great help on our mission last year, and his knack for strategy can only be cultivated in a position like this.” Ron was looking at her like she’d just turned into a Pygmy Puff, and all the other Weasley’s except Fred were looking at her in mixtures of shock, anger, and disbelief. Hermione glanced briefly at Fred who shot her a calmly supportive smile and stole his quote from that morning. 

 

“Who are we to say this isn’t the best decision for him?” Hermione turned her attention to Molly and Arthur. “Obviously, as his parents, you know him and are used to looking out for him - and rightly so.” Hermione shot Harry and Ron a rueful smile. “Just look at all the mischief we have gotten ourselves into over the years. But, also, as his parents, the potential danger of the job is at the forefronts of your minds. That is quite understandable. As I said, you know him well, but he also knows himself. I think the three of you should sit down together and consider all angles before you decide if you are for or against this plan.”

 

Molly seemed to be momentarily sputtering at Hermione’s boldness, but Arthur was eyeing her unreadably. Just as Molly opened her mouth to speak - probably angrily - Arthur smoothly interrupted.

 

“That is a very wise course of action, Hermione.” The man looked around the table at his children. “I ask that all of you - except Ron - give us a moment to discuss this. Ginny, please,” he said sternly when she started to voice her objections. 

 

She clamped her jaw down and nodded jerkily, snatching up Harry’s hand and leading him outside into the early morning sun. He looked back, slightly panicked, at Hermione, but she just smiled at him as she stood as well. She gave Ron a small smile as she passed, and her friend smiled back and mouthed ‘thank you’. She nodded and started to slip upstairs, followed by a curiously silent pair of Weasley twins.

 

She heard Molly throw up a silencing charm and winced, sending silent support to Ron.

 

When she reached the first landing, she swung around to face to twins, eyeing them with her arms crossed. She didn’t like the serious expressions on their faces; either they were planning something, or they were both thinking along the same somber lines (no surprise there). 

 

“That was really good of you,” George said lowly, studying her with eyes that were somehow different from his twins’. 

 

Hermione glanced at Fred again. “I had a pretty good discussion with a wise friend of mine, and he helped me be a little more okay with it.”

 

Fred smiled a little at that, eyes crinkling. George looked between the two for a minute, a grin of his own slowly overtaking his searching expression.

 

“I see,” he said slowly. “Say, Hermione… What are you doing today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first look at the twins' shop in the next chapter.


	9. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes with Fred and George to WWW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I know some of you have been wondering where the heck I've been. I won't go into a lot of detail (you are here for Fred and Hermione's story, not mine), but I have a legit excuse for not uploading for such a long time, I promise! I spent a few weeks in the hospital and had no opportunity to write there. I've been focusing on getting better, but I still have some progress to make. I can't promise regular updates yet, but I will try! I don't think this will be the best chapter, but I did my best. Anyway, on to the story! (Yay, Hermione and Fred!!)

At first, the noise was overwhelming. A few times Hermione had to duck into the backroom for a breath (or a few) before braving the crowd again. She could tell the twins were looking out for her. Twice so far George had diverted the unwelcome attentions of a group of fans wanting her autograph and asking if she’d seen Harry lately. Fred had swooped in too many times to count and taken the metaphorical bullet for her in the form of unintentionally oppressively close customers. 

After a few of the worst encounters, Fred calmly directed her towards the back room and made it clear that it was completely open to her, even though she wasn’t an employee. Hermione loved it back there, the noise of the shop a nice buzz in the background, the many projects that hadn’t made it through the last stages of testing sitting out for her to inspect. 

Once, she got so absorbed in the notes for a new Skiving Snackbox candy called Babbling Bon Bons that made you speak and understand another language for an hour that she hadn’t realized she’d sat down and started making corrections until Fred came back to see if she’d gotten caught in one of their defense traps. 

“Found that one, did you?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Hermione jerked her head up, right hand twitching towards her wand. When she saw her friend, the tension left like a wave and she gave him a wry, sheepish smile. “Oops?” 

Fred laughed. “We were actually planning on showing you some of our plans tonight if you were game. Seems like you are.”

“I didn’t mean to just butt in without permission, but you two have some really impressive inventions back here,” Hermione said enthusiastically, holding up the page with her notes scribbled over theirs. “Though I do hope you have a permit for the Runespoor eggs. Those are typically only sold on the black market.”

Fred gave her a confident smile. “Of course we do, Hermione. We have routine checks from the Ministry, actually. We patten every recipe we make with them, so we can’t get into trouble down the road.”

“That is wise,” Hermione agreed, nodding her head. She shook the notes in her hand a little to draw the attention back to them. “I made a few notes,” she said, feeling her face getting hot again. “I just thought if you added Jobberknoll feathers, it could last longer. I saw you only have it to fifteen minutes, and that is incredible, but I think the Jobberknoll feathers could make it work more effectively and for more time.”

A look of realization crossed Fred’s face, and he pushed off the doorway to come and look over her shoulder at the notes. A smile grew as he scanned them.

“Oh, Georgie will upset he didn’t think of this first! He has been puzzling over that for a few days. It’s my job to make it so your skin doesn’t turn blue when you take it anymore. Any ideas about that?” Fred asked as he sat down on the bench beside her and grabbed a self-inking quill out of the cup in the center of the table. 

“Well...It could be the Murtlap mixing with the Billywig wings...The Murtlap can cause a color change if it mixes with something fizzy, like any Billywig ingredient.” Hermione absentmindedly stroked her quill across her cheek, thinking. “Or the unicorn hair...it’s such a pure ingredient, but the protective features of the Murtlap could be interfering with the Unicorn’s magic.”

“Yes…” Fred agreed, writing each combination down with no less than six question marks in his excitement. When he finished he looked up. “This will be so good for us. Minister Shacklebolt has been very interested in these for the new foreign outreach program he is working on, and he wanted us to tell him as soon as we worked out all the kinks.”

“I’m happy for you, Fred,” Hermione said sincerely. “You and George deserve every good thing coming your way. You’ve always worked very hard, even if it was on things that got you in trouble more often than not.”

Fred snorted. “I suppose you are right about that. A lot of the time we were just trying to lighten the mood. Especially in seventh year with Umbridge. We had finally gotten the Skiving Snackboxes to work, and we thought if we gave the students a way to get out of detention or class with her, we should offer it, you know? Of course, if they wanted to use it to get out of History of Magic, too-”

Hermione slapped his arm, even as a smile spread across her face. “I will have you know that History of Magic is a very interesting subject. Professor Binns is just too...monotonous to make his lectures very interesting.”

Fred laughed his easy, heartwarming laugh that made Hermione squirm inside a little, just hearing it. It was such a joyous sound, and his face always lit up when he was truly amused or happy. And his eyes...they practically sparked with mirth if he found something to be extra hilarious.

“What is this?” George’s false-stern voice cut through Hermione rambling thoughts. “I could use a little bit of help out here, Freddie. Mrs. Gatte and her daughters are back.”  
Fred winced. “Right. Coming, Georgie.”

“Mrs. Gatte?” Hermione asked, curious. “What is so bad about her?”

“It isn’t her,” George said from the doorway. “It’s her daughters. She’s got six of them, all two years or less between them. The oldest is turning eleven this year. She’s alright, but the younger five...little nightmares they are. They make me realize how tame Ginny was as a little girl.”

“Tame?” Hermione asked incredulously.

Both twins laughed at her expression. 

“Compared to these kids, she was an angel,” Fred said, his tone somewhere in between amused and horrified. 

“Poor Mrs. Gatte…” Hermione said sympathetically. 

“Yes, but I fear more for our shop if we don’t get out there soon, Fred,” George said, already backing back out. 

“Coming. Feel free to look around more, if you like, Hermione. You’ve been nothing but a help today.” He shot her a smile and climbed to his feet after his twin. 

“Thanks, Fred,” she said after him. She’d felt really bad about being constantly at the edge of panic, but apparently, Fred didn’t seem to remember how she’d dropped and almost broken a bottle of the new and improved boil creme, or when she stepped back into a customer and accidentally sent their packages flying. 

After one last final comment about the Jobberknoll feathers, Hermione decided to move on and see if there was anything else she could work on. She loved being able to go through and find the problems in the products and fixing them. She wasn’t arrogant enough to think she could find and fix them all on her own, but when she did she felt elated that she’d managed to correct something. It was like putting the last piece of a puzzle together. 

Hermione didn’t realize, but the horrible feeling that she needed to be doing something had been left back out in the main area of the shop. She didn’t feel pressured to do anything, or help anyone. It was just fun to sit and work through the funny problems that popped up in the testing stages like the blue skin or abnormal ear hair growth.

Hermione sifted through a pile of ideas before a packet of them caught her eye. On top was something called Flashback Fudges, and when she quickly scanned the other pages, she saw Nightmare Nougat, Peace Pralines, and Safe Silent Sparklers to muffle loud sudden noises. 

She sat down to read through the packet, thoroughly in awe with her two friends. According to the testing dates, the Nightmare Nougat had been created before the war even ended, and was in the final stages of testing. The Sparklers were the most recent creation, not even past the developing stages yet. Hermione was interested to see how that turned out. It could be really interesting...

Hermione thought of how Harry would benefit from this, and how much more at ease he would be if every crash and bang wasn’t making him jump out of his skin. Merlin, so many people they could help with this…

By the time the twins came back, she was halfway through the packet. She was staring, frustrated, at a section about the Peace Pralines, and tapping her quill incessantly on the table. They had come across an error in the making of the Pralines. Apparently, the potions mixture they put in them had a nasty habit of blowing up when it was put in a heated oven. She could just imagine what Professor Snape would have to say about that...

“Told you she would get stuck on the Pralines, Fred,” George boasted. 

Hermione looked up, glaring. Both men started laughing, and when Hermione asked at what, all they could do was point in the general direction of her head. That made her glare harder, which, in turn, only increased their laughter. 

With a huff, Hermione conjured a mirror and held it up to her face. She immediately groaned. The reflection that stared back at her was one frizzy, tangled haired, ink splotched witch. She actually had a section of hair sticking up farther than was natural from running her hand through it too many times. The scowl just made her look downright comical.

She felt her face get hot and tried to flatten the mess that was her hair. She didn’t bother with the ink spot; it was a fairly common occurrence for her, especially when she got to absorbed in things to notice whether she had ink on her skin or not. 

“We are closing up shop in about fifteen minutes,” George huffed out, hand on Fred’s shoulder to support the both of them. 

Hermione nodded and tilted her head to show less of her face. “Got it,” she intoned, perhaps a little higher pitched than usual. 

“Mum wants to have everyone home tonight,” Fred informed her. “We are planning on leaving in about fifteen minutes.” 

“That quickly?” Asked Hermione, slightly incredulous. 

“Magic,” the twins said together and melted out of the doorway back into the shop, chuckling still. 

Hermione listened to them clean the shop with several handy spells she was sure they had learned from Mrs. Weasley. They joked back and forth, their laughter making Hermione smile. Hermione packed up her notes with the twins’ and put them back with the others. 

There was a definite shift in attitudes when the twins got to the front of the store. The sudden quiet made Hermione’s hand itch for her wand. She reached out and grabbed it, and, like several other times when she was scared or angry, it seemed to jump the last few inches into her hand. 

Hermione crept silently up to the front of the store and saw the twins warding the shop. Her hold relaxed on her wand, and she stood up straighter. She stepped out of the aisle she was hiding in. 

“I can help with that,” Hermione said quietly, not wanting to startle them. 

George jumped like she had poked a finger in his ribs, and Fred’s grip on his wand tightened until he recognized Hermione’s voice. Hermione decided not to comment. Both men turned around to face her, George’s complexion several shades more pink than usual. 

“I’m quite good at warding,” Hermione continued. “Lots of practice, and all that.” She waved her hand around as she spoke.

“Sure,” Fred said. “We have already done the basic wards, but we like to be cautious, especially with the last of the Death Eaters still around.”

Hermione shivered. Knowing how easily wards could be broken by placing a jinx was something that kept her up at night. 

She nodded and stepped forward, joining the twins at the storefront. Together they cast a series of wards, the protection washing through the entire store. When all three of them were satisfied, they stepped back from their work. 

“Ready to go?”

“Ready.”

After the CRACK of apparation disappeared, there was only silence left in the famed joke shop.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weasley's make a decision, and Hermione has a nightmare.

“We have decided to support Ronald in his decision,” Mrs. Weasley said with no preamble when the trio made their way into the kitchen.

A pained breath escaped Hermione, but she covered it with a smile. Hermione knew she was the one to push for the Weasley’s acceptance and support, and of course, she was happy for Ron, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Ron was watching her reaction carefully, hands folded on the table.

“I’m happy for you,” Hermione said tightly. She knew her face was probably red from holding in tears, but it was the best she could do. 

Ron let out a relieved sigh and smiled brightly. “Thanks, Hermione.”

When Ron looked to his brothers, Hermione turned to Harry. He was leaning shoulder - to - shoulder with Ginny, watching Hermione’s reaction to the dreaded news. They shared a sad smile, understanding how the other felt. 

Ginny gave Hermione a smirk and shifted down one place so Hermione could sit next to Harry, the way they did at school: Hermione and Ron on either side of Harry - united.

*

THUD!

Professor Snape’s blood sprayed all around him as he was pushed back into the wall by the force of Nagini’s strike. 

THUD!

Again and again and again until the floor was so covered in blood Hermione couldn’t see the wood. She could see the light in his eyes dimming, hear Voldemort’s saying, “You served me well, Severus,” before apparating away with his snake.

Harry stumbled out from beside her, then Ron, and then Hermione herself when the horror faded and adrenaline took its place. She handed a vial to Harry when he asked, moving on autopilot, but the adrenaline was fading again as quickly as it came. 

The light was dimming further in Professor Snape’s eyes even as he said, “You have your mother’s eyes.” He was dying, and there was nothing they could do to stop it, no matter how much they wanted to.

As he slumped bile rose in Hermione’s throat. He was dead. She’d just watched her professor get murdered. Blood was still coming out his neck, streaming instead of spraying as the volume decreased. Hermione looked down at herself and saw that some of his blood had sprayed onto her clothes. She could feel it on her arms and her face, and the more she looked the more was there and she was trying to get it off, wipe it away, but it kept coming -

“Hermione! Stop! Wake up, Merlin, please wake up!” Ginny was pleading.

Hermione knew she had about ten seconds before she vomited all over the floor so she vaulted out of bed and up the stairs to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before she was throwing up forcefully, choking as she inhaled desperately. She was scrubbing her hands over her arms trying to get the blood off. She could feel it - it was cooling the longer it sat there - and she needed to get it off, please get off -

She threw up again, barely registering the raised voices outside the open door to the bathroom. She dimly thought she should have closed the door, but in that moment couldn't muster the focus.

“Get it off,” she sobbed quietly, scrubbing harder at her arms, then her face.

“Hermione, stop,” a voice was saying, but she had to get it off. “Hermione-”

Hands grabbed her wrists and she pushed out, trying to get the person off. 

“No,” she protested. “I have to get it off, it has to come off, I don’t want it, get it off!” Professor Snape's blood was literally on her hands.

“Okay,” the voice said, squeezing her wrists tighter as she pushed. “Okay, Hermione, we’re going to get it off, okay?” Her wrists were transferred to one hand and the other one waved a wand towards the shower, starting it without having to touch it. Hermione could only focus on the hands in front of her.

“Okay, Hermione, get in the shower,” the voice said, pulling her up, still grasping her wrists. It would be uncomfortable, but that voice sounded familiar, so she let it go.

She stepped into the shower on wobbly legs, still in her pajamas. She felt someone step in behind her and her wrists were released. She stepped further under the spray and scrubbed her face, then her hair, then her arms. The hands were on her waist the whole time to keep her from falling when she slipped in her frenzy. 

As the last of the blood disappeared down the drain and her mind cleared of the nightmare she realized she was sobbing. Harsh, rasping, forceful sobs were overtaking her and she slumped over the arms wrapping around her from behind. 

“Shh,” Fred was whispering from behind her, and she just cried harder knowing it was him. 

Fred gently lowered them to their knees. Hermione twisted around in his arms to push her face into his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Hermione,” he soothed, rubbing her wet back firmly.

“I - I sa-saw,” she started painfully. “Pro-Profes-sor Sn-ape get mur-murdered.” Hermione gripped Fred as tight as she could, vaguely noticing his wet clothes. “There w-was so - so much bl-ood!” 

“Shh,” Fred soothed gently. “It’ll get better. I know it was horrible, but it’ll get better, I promise. I’m so sorry.” He whispered the last words.

Her sobs were slowing, and by the time her legs started cramping she was breathing deeply into Fred’s wet shoulder, though she was shuddering like she had stepped outside in an ice storm. 

“Come out now, dear,” Mrs. Weasley’s quiet voice came from the doorway. 

Hermione raised her head blearily and stared at the woman. Whatever expression was on her face must have convinced her it was safe to approach because she stepped forward slowly, hands held out slightly from her sides, palms facing Hermione. 

Hermione reached out with both arms like a child and was both pushed (by Fred) and pulled (by Mrs. Weasley) out of the tub. When the kindly woman wrapped her arms around the wet Hermione, her tears were set off again by the comfort she felt. She felt a warm towel wrap around shoulders and she withdrew from Mrs. Weasley’s arms to wrap it tighter around her shuddering frame.

She felt that if she took a step she would fall on her face, so when Fred took her elbow, she was grateful. 

“Let’s get you into some warmer, dry clothes and then we will have a nice cup of hot chocolate,” Mrs. Weasley suggested.

Hermione’s whole body was shaking as she was walked back to Ginny’s bedroom. She was simultaneously grateful and upset that Harry and Ron had gone back to Grimmauld Place. They were the only ones who could understand, but she didn’t want them to witness another of her nightmares.

Fred stayed behind the closed door while Mrs. Weasley helped Hermione into her comfiest, polar bear printed pajama pants, and someone’s Weasley sweater that had somehow ended up in her drawer. 

Every few seconds, Hermione would rub her hands up and down her arms, both the be soothed by the soft wornness of the sweater, and to check that there was no blood.

After pulling on a pair of socks and performing a shaky mouth cleaning spell on herself, Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal a worried Fred. He glanced down at Hermione’s sweater, and, after such a vivid nightmare, she couldn’t decipher his expression.

“Dad’s in the kitchen,” Fred said, looking to his mother. “Said he wanted to get a head start on the hot chocolate.”

“Thank you, Fred, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling gently at her son. “I will just take Hermione down to the kitchen. Get some dry clothes on and try to sleep.”

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Weasley raised a hand to stop him.

“Please, Fred.”

After a moment, Fred nodded, turning around after giving an encouraging glance to Hermione.

“Come on, dear.”

Hermione could smell the warm scent of chocolate as soon as her foot touched the last step. Mr. Weasley was just setting three mugs on the table when she and Mrs. Weasley walked in.

“Ah,” Mr. Weasley said brightly. “Perfect timing.”

Hermione sat down in her usual spot on the bench, Mr. Weasley in front of her and Mrs. Weasley at her side. Hermione felt more than saw the couple glance at each other and began to feel slightly nervous. They would be perfectly sensible in deciding to ask her to leave if that was what this was for. 

She reached for her mug, bringing the hot, sweet liquid to her nose and inhaling deeply. This was something she had missed desperately on the run. 

“Hermione,” Mr. Weasley started. 

“Please,” Hermione interrupted. “I think I understand where this is going. If you will let me stay till morning, I will leave then.”  
Mr. Weasley’s mouth dropped open. 

“Hermione - no - we are not asking you to leave,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

“You aren’t?” Hermione asked. She was so tired and still a little confused from her nightmare that she was having a hard time keeping up.

“No, we are not.” Mr. Weasley said firmly. “Hermione, we realize that you are going through a hard time, and we will accept and help you in any way we can.” He glanced at his wife. “We just aren’t sure if we will be enough to help you.”

“We want you to heal, Hermione. What Arthur and I are suggesting is getting some outside help.”

“It is entirely up to you, but we wanted to let you know that talking to someone is an option. If that person is one or both of us, that’s fine, but if you feel like you need to talk privately with someone legally bound to keep your secrets, we will take no offense,” said Mr. Weasley, not unkindly.

Hermione nodded slowly. “Talking to someone is something I have been considering for a while now. I wanted to bring it up to a few people if there are such things as therapists in the Wizarding World.” So many people could make use of it.

The two Weasley parents nodded.

“There are. They got especially busy after the end of the first war, and I’m sure they are being put to good use now as well.”

Hermione took another sip of cocoa. “That is good to know. Are they located in Saint Mungos?”

“Both in Saint Mungos and through private practices as well. Arthur and I prefer Saint Mungos, just because they are required to form an Unbreakable Vow not to share anything you talk about unless you plan to hurt yourself or others, or if you have done something that requires the information the Medi Witch or Wizard has.”

Hermione nodded again. Her shoulders were starting to droop, even with her elbows leaning on the table. 

“Do you want to try to go back to sleep?” Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. 

Hermione hadn’t realized her eyes had shut of their own accord, or that her head had dropped forward until Mrs. Weasley broke the silence. Hermione hadn’t even noticed the time passing, but it must have been a couple of minutes because both the Weasley’s mugs were about half empty.

Hermione nodded blearily. “Yes, I think I do.”

She didn’t really want to risk having another nightmare, but she had an idea forming in the back of her mind. 

“Would you like me to come up with you, or do you want to go by yourself?”

Hermione appreciated the offer, even if it made her feel like a little girl.

“I’ll be alright,” she said, smiling at the couple who had been through so much together. “Thank you for your help, and I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.”

“Pish,” Mrs. Weasley said, waving her hand, unconcerned. “I have seven children, dear,” like that explained everything.

Hermione just smiled again and made her way up the stairs. She opened the door to Ginny’s room quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she had managed to get back to sleep. 

She was sitting on her bed, lamp on and ankles crossed, reading a quidditch magazine that she kept by her bed. She glanced up when the door opened and set her reading aside. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione started.

Ginny made a sound that sounded suspiciously like her mother’s ‘pish’. “I don’t care about that,” Ginny said. “I’m just sorry I didn’t wake you up sooner. I thought at first that bad sleep is better than no sleep, but then you started thrashing around and I knew it was really bad.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but thank you for helping me.” Hermione was grateful for her friend.

“Why are you standing in the doorway?” Ginny asked, confused and amused.

Hermione shifted from foot to foot. “Well, I didn’t have any nightmares when I slept with Fred before, so I thought I’d try it again, if he’s awake still,” she stated awkwardly.

“Ah,” Ginny said knowingly. “Knowing Fred, he is still awake. And, even better, George is at the apartment tonight. He’s having Angelina over for breakfast tomorrow.”

Hermione already knew this, but it was funny to hear Ginny listing reasons why she should go up and sleep in her brother’s room. 

Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face. “I’ll just grab my wand then.” 

She decided at the last second to grab her bluebell flame, too.

“Night,” Ginny said as Hermione closed the door behind her.

The closer she got the more nervous she became. When she came to the closed doorway, there was no light and no noise. She shifted for a moment, debating whether or not to knock, before finally giving in. 

“Fred?” she whispered through the door. “Are you awake?”

The door opened within seconds. The blue light from Hermione’s fire cast a strange shadow over Fred’s face, making him look tired, like he’d seen things he never wanted too. Sadly, it was true. 

“Hey,” he said, opening the door wider. 

“Hey,” Hermione repeated. “I was just wondering if I could - I mean, if it would be okay if I-” Hermione stumbled over her words, hating every second of it. What was she even doing here? This was definitely weird, going to her friend’s room and asking to sleep with him. 

“Do you want to come in?” Fred interrupted her rambling. 

“Yes,” Hermione said, relieved.

Fred stepped back, letting Hermione through. The flame cast just enough light to see, but not enough to keep either of them awake, if they were to fall asleep with it lit. It gave the air a secretive feel, making both of them speak more quietly than they were consciously deciding to.

“I was just wondering if you would keep my nightmares away tonight,” Hermione whispered with her back to Fred.

“Of course,” he replied easily, though Fred was feeling like his heart might pound out of his chest. 

He walked around Hermione and flipped the rumpled covers back. Hermione set her jar of fire on the nightstand and crawled into bed. Fred slid in after her, shifting her hair out of his face.

“Sorry,” she whispered, giggling softly. 

The sound made Fred’s stomach flip. 

They both knew they could enlarge the bed, but somehow that would feel more intentional than casually leaving it how it was.

Hermione shifted until the back of her head was touching Fred’s chin, making sure to keep her hair away from his nose so it wouldn’t tickle him. Fred set his arm over Hermione’s waist, letting the weight rest there.

“That’s my sweater you know,” he mentioned quietly.

Hermione felt another tired, slightly hysterical giggle bubbling up and did nothing to stop it. In her opinion, laughing was better than crying. “Oops?”

Fred sighed exaggeratedly, and Hermione could feel it on the top of her head. “I’m never getting that back, am I?”

“Wellll,” Hermione said, drawing out the word. “It is quite comfortable.”

“What a shame,” Fred said sarcastically. “It’s not like I have a never-ending supply of them or anything.” He poked her side, spawning another laugh. “This one is irreplaceable, you know.”

Hermione froze, for a moment thinking he might be talking about her. “Irreplaceable, huh?”

“Yep. Unique, special, never to be recreated. I think another name for irreplaceable is Hermione Granger.”

They both held their breaths until Fred huffed out a laugh.

“That was the cheesiest thing I think I’ve ever said,” Fred chortled, lifting the tension.

Hermione tried to stifle her giggles in her pillow. “I think another name for Fred Weasley is Cheddar.”

Hermione could feel Fred shaking behind her and the air he was blowing out on her head. A wave of comfort washed over her, quickly followed by a wave of drowsiness. A yawn escaped before she could trap it. 

Fred’s laughter quieted. “I should let you sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Hermione replied.

“Yes, you do. That yawn was your bodies way of telling you that you want to rest now. Don’t worry about nightmares. Cheddar is here to keep them away.”

Hermione snorted tiredly. “Seriously?” They were both too tired to even try to be funny.

“Why not?”

Hermione would have shrugged if she had the energy, but with the comforting warmth of Fred behind her and the coziness of her stolen Weasley sweater, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like things have been moving a little slowly. I will try to pick things up next chapter! Thanks for stopping by!


	11. Mrs. Weasley's Pamphlet for "Healing Your Traumatized Mind"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Hermione have an important discussion.

“What did my parents talk to you about?” Ginny asked, leaning back on the garden bench to look out through the willow branches. 

“They want me to talk to a therapist,” said Hermione, picked a piece of lint off her jean shorts.

Ginny was quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to talk to someone?”

Hermione considered before answering. “Yes, and no. There is so much that I don’t feel ready to talk about. But how am I supposed to get to the point where I can if I don’t start?”

A breeze brushed by, the distant tinkling from the windchimes at the front of the house calming Hermione’s fidgeting.

“That makes sense,” Ginny validated. “I’ve been thinking about talking to someone, too. Mum wants me to see the same healer as her, but I put my foot down.” She kicked a rock away with the toe of her sneaker. 

“That would be odd,” Hermione agreed.

“I know the healer can’t tell her anything, but I would still feel like she would report to Mum.” Ginny sat forward and waved her hand like she was brushing the idea away. “I don’t know. How do I even go about finding the right healer?”

Hermione sighed and pulled out a pamphlet from her beaded bag. “I found this under my plate at breakfast this morning.” 

Ginny snorted. “She snuck a pamphlet on ‘Healing Your Traumatized Mind’ under your eggs and bacon?”

Hermione giggled. “I think she just didn’t want to make it obvious that she wants me to see someone in front of the others.”

“Yeah, well, it worked, I guess. I didn’t even see you put this in your bag.” Ginny glanced at the bag that had traveled across the country with Hermione. “I’m glad it worked so well.”

Hermione nodded, patting the bag. “It’s been through a lot with me.”

“It really was an ingenious idea.”

Hermione blushed. “I got it from a film I watched over and over when I was little. It’s called Mary Poppins. Mary has a bag that fits anything she wants inside, without being able to tell from the outside. She uses it to help her take care of children.”

Ginny laughed. “My mum would love to see that!” 

“Oh, I bet she would love it,” Hermione enthused. “And Mr. Weasley and Fred and George. Not just the film, I mean, but films in general. I’m sure the twins could think of so many inventions just from watching one movie.”

Ginny studied Hermione. “You love it, don’t you?”

“What?” Hermione asked, confused. “Films?”

“No, silly,” Ginny said with a smile. “Working with the twins.”

“Oh,” blushed Hermione. “Yes, I do - of course, I do. How could I not? They are both lovely to work with, and the things they have in the shop are incredible. Absolutely incredible! I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but they will be so helpful, I know it!”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Ginny prodded. “More than being busy in the shop, more than solving problems, more than working with the twins.”

Hermione smiled at her brilliant friend. “It’s revolutionary in a way that helps everybody, even if they don’t quite know it. It’s not grand, either. You walk in and the whole environment blows you away. You leave happy and excited, and the darkness of the past few years just seems to...float away for awhile. I like that. I think I might need that. I still have ambitions to help people, especially muggleborns. And the creatures - they are so underrepresented! If I learned one thing from Remus-” Hermione’s voice choked up for a second, “-it was to never let your circumstances keep you down. I don’t want to be kept down. I am resting right now, sure, but I will still accomplish what I set out to.”

Ginny nodded along with Hermione. “It’s okay to rest before you take on the next battle. I’m so glad you found something that makes you so inspired, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Me too.” 

They rested a moment in silence, Ginny leaning back against the bench seat and studying the pamphlet. Hermione shifted and winced when her shirt rubbed her back.

Ginny glanced up.

“Still bothering you?” she asked lowering the papers in her hand.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I thought it would go away after I started moving around this morning, but it hasn’t.” 

Her scars had been bothering her all day. Not really bad, yet, but Hermione had a sinking feeling that it was about to get worse. They hadn’t bothered her in quite some time, and Hermione figured that they were going to make up for the lost time.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny sympathized. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew enough from Harry and Ron, even Hermione herself, what was causing the pain. “Maybe Mum could-”

She stopped after one look from her older friend. 

“What about this?” Ginny suggested. She raised the pamphlet. “Why don’t we go to Saint Mungos together, disguised, of course,” she added after Hermione’s mouth opened to protest, “-pick a few of the healers we would like to meet, and make an appointment? You can bring up your scars to your healer and see what they have to say.”

Hermione nodded, unconsciously leaning back so her shirt would drape away from her skin. 

“We could do that… Let’s look and see who we want to meet first. I would personally feel more comfortable with a woman. Do you have a preference?”

Ginny nodded.

“I would prefer a woman, too.” She shivered a little, which Hermione thought was odd, but let it pass. 

*

By that afternoon, the pain from Hermione’s scars had risen to a constant burning. Ginny took a nap after lunch, leaving Hermione to read by herself on the couch. She wished she was at the shop, but reading would have to do. 

She thought about the note Fred had left her that morning. Somehow, she hadn’t woken up when he’d left, so he left her a spare piece of parchment saying, “Hermione, I’m glad you were able to sleep peacefully last night. I had to join George at the shop, and I thought it would be better to let you sleep. See you at dinner. Miss you motts (get it? Mozzarella?), Fred.

Hermione smiled. The cheese puns needed to stop, really, they did, but the silly lightheartedness of them made her chest feel light. She was sure if anyone else heard them, they would just roll their eyes, maybe groan, but to Hermione, it was a relief to be able to laugh at something so ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is really short (again), and I am sorry! I also know that it might be a little boring, but it is necessary for the plot. I also wanted to make it clear to everyone that nothing physical happened to Ginny. Spoiler: Amycus Carrow cast suggestive looks/comments to and about the girls, and that is it. Ginny's experience can still cause lasting discomfort and is completely valid. I just wanted to make that clear to anyone who picked up on the barely-there suggestion of sexual trauma for Ginny. 
> 
> Let me know how you guys feel about these cheese puns.:/ Someone stop me, lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comment and leave kudos, if you want.


	12. Flare-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione scars act up, and she has a meaningful conversation with Fred.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked, running the last few steps up the stairs and taking hold of her arm.

“Fine, Harry,” she gasped. “Just give me a second.”

Harry knew better than to ask her any more questions, so he stayed silent, supporting her wobbly frame.

When she finally straightened, face white and beaded with sweat, Harry frowned deeply. Hermione tried to smile but flinched at another sudden stab of pain. 

“What is it?” Harry asked, voice stern, She didn’t think he even realized, but he sounded like a concerned father when he got like this. “And don’t say nothing.”

“Just the usual, is all,” Hermione said, trying to play it off. She hated seeing Harry worried, even if he - potentially - should be. 

“Is it your scars, then?” he asked. 

Hermione nodded, pulling the collar of her shirt down away from her throat. SHe couldn’t help but recognize the irony of their reversed roles - Hermione with the scar pain and Harry as the concerned friend. 

“What can I do?”

Hermione sighed. 

“Help me downstairs?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, though he sounded like he wanted to take her back upstairs and put her in bed. 

“Stop that,” Hermione said.

“What?” Harry asked, discombobulated.

“Don’t feel bad, Harry. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Harry didn’t answer, though his arm looped through hers tightened.

“I’m serious,” Hermione demanded. “Stop that. I don’t blame you, Harry Potter. The fault lies solely with Bellatrix.”

Harry nodded, though his face was stony. Hermione knew she wouldn’t get through to him on that issue today and barely contained a sigh. 

She had to take a moment to breathe through another, blessedly short, wave of fiery pain at the bottom of the stairs. She could hear happy chatter coming from the kitchen. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled a small smile at her best friend. 

“I’m alright, Harry. Let’s go in.”

Harry frowned, but nonetheless followed her into the kitchen to join the others. 

“Took you long enough, mate,” Ron joked from his spot at the table. 

“Crookshanks decided to trip me, the little devil,” Harry grouched, smoothly covering for Hermione. 

She was a little hurt that one of her best friends of over seven years didn’t recognize that she was in pain, but it wasn’t like she was broadcasting it either. She shouldn’t be mad that Ron didn’t notice something she was hiding. 

“Sit down, dears,” Molly encouraged. 

The movement of swinging her leg over the bench made her pause, every muscle tensing, trying to keep in a groan. Her sweater was rubbing too much, but it wasn’t like she could go around shirtless. She wouldn’t show off her scars like that, anyway. 

“Alright, Hermione?” George asked.

Hermione sat down swiftly. 

“Of course,” she said tightly, trying to sound bright. “I thought I saw a spider, but it was just my imagination.”

Laughter rang out over the table at the look on Ron’s face.

“Spider?” he asked, oddly high-pitched. 

“No spider, Ron,” Hermione laughed. “It was just a shadow.”

“Oh,” he replied, clearing his throat. 

As the conversation shifted to other topics (thank goodness, Ron was now red with embarrassment, and quite possibly fear) Hermione felt a soft kick to her shin. Fred, George, and Ron were sitting across from her, but Fred was the only one looking at her. 

“I don’t believe you,” he mouthed. 

Hermione glanced around. Seeing no one paying them any attention, she held up a finger, silently telling him to wait. She was okay with telling Fred that her scars were hurting; she’d already told him she had them. There was no sense in lying when he obviously knew something was wrong.

The thin, white scar on Hermione’s throat was making it hard to swallow. She saw Harry watched her tug at her collar, getting more and more frustrated that there was nothing to do about it. 

Hermione neatly skirted around Molly’s concerned questions about how little she ate and practically ran outside. She swung the door closed, quickly but gently, and paused to take a deep breath. It was uncomfortably humid, but it was too late to go back inside. Her lips quirked up into a smile when she heard Ron’s voice echo in her memory. 

“Are you a witch or not?” 

After making her way to the bench under the willow tree, she cast a cooling charm around her. She could see Fred slip out the door, pause, glance around in confusion, and eye the willow tree. 

“Over here,” Hermione called, giggling. 

Fred tilted his head back in exasperation, rolling his eyes, and gave the sky a half smile. 

Hermione watched him jog over, and adjusted her sweater to fit a little smoother over her torso, wincing, but leaving it. It looked better that way.

Fred’s red hair flopped around his forehead until he stuck only his head through the branches.

“Boo!” he said sarcastically, knowing she could see him coming. 

Hermione laughed. “Ahhh,” she replied, pretending to be scared. She put a hand to her chest to go along with the act, but the pressure was too much. 

“Ow, ow,” she breathed, hunching forward.

She heard Fred step fully through the willow branches. He sat next to her on the bench, perching anxiously. 

“What is it? What happened?”

Hermione braced her hands on her knees and straightened slightly, twisting to see him. 

“Remember those scars I told you about?” she asked tightly.

Fred’s face cleared of confusion, but the worry stayed. 

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, they are just flaring up right now. It tends to hurt pretty bad sometimes.” She saw Fred open his mouth to say something, probably to suggest something to help with the pain, but Hermione interjected. “Don’t worry, Fred. It’s nothing I can’t handle, and there’s nothing that helps them. I’ve tried everything.”

“Have you gone to a healer about it?”

Hermione sighed. “Harry and Ron helped me arrange a time with Madam Pomfrey. She is the only one I trusted with this, especially with how much the press is after all of us. She said there was nothing she could do. The poison Bellatrix used contains dark magic. There is no cure that we know of.”

Professor Snape was the only one with a prayer of a chance at finding an antidote for the poison, but he’d never liked her. That didn’t even matter now, though. He was dead.  
“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Fred said, sounding like he wanted to wrap her up in a hug. 

She smiled bitterly at him, blinking away tears. “It’s okay. I’m okay. There’s nothing to do about it now.”

“Didn’t you say your clothes irritate them?” Fred asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Hermione said, straightening all the way and making sure to keep her back from touching the bench. 

“So isn’t your sweater just causing more pain?”

The fact that he was trying to help her didn’t keep her from flinching. 

“Yes. But I don’t want to go around in a t-shirt and make everyone see how bad they really are.”

“Hermione, no one would mind-”

Hermione yanked up the left sleeve of her sweater, revealing the horrid Mudblood scar, and the surrounding and overlapping scars from her attempting to protect herself. 

“I know for a fact that it hurts Harry to see it, and everyone would want to know, rightly so, where they came from. I’m not ready to relive that in front of everyone yet.”

Fred’s hand reached out slowly, hovering over her arm. Hermione’s muscles tensed, ready to pull away and cover them again. Fred’s hand drifted over her arm, always hovering and never touching, before pulling back. Her muscles released and a deep breath escaped her. 

“Thank you for showing me,” Fred said. 

Hermione blushed. She was a little upset that she had shown him out of agitation, but he had seen a little bit of what covered the top half of her body and reacted well.   
She pulled her sleeve back down and shrugged. 

“If you feel comfortable enough, I want you to leave your sleeves rolled up if that helps the pain.” 

Hermione glanced at Fred and caught his eye.

“I don’t want to bo-”

“Hermione, the only thing I am bothered by is that you had to endure that. The fact that you have scars from something horrible you had to go through doesn’t bother me. What does is that you are putting other people before yourself unnecessarily.” Fred shifted to look at her more earnestly. “If you aren’t ready to tell anyone, that is completely up to you, as it should be. It’s no one’s business but your own when and if you feel like sharing what happened to you. 

“But I want you to be as comfortable as you can be, Hermione. Please don’t sit there in pain because of me. I know you have scars and I respect your decision about when you reveal them. Just…”

Fred ran a hand through his hair and huffed, leaning back against the bench. 

Hermione laid a hand on his forearm, stilling his frustrated movement. He glanced down, then up. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said sincerely. 

She moved to pull her sleeves back up, but Fred grabbed her hand.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he said imploringly. 

Hermione nodded and continued to pull her sleeves up, hissing at the burn that followed. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when the magically cooled air touched the too hot skin. She watched Fred’s eyes track her scars and saw his eyes...dampen, somehow. It made her want to cover up again, but she managed not to. She tapped anxiously on her thighs.

Fred grabbed her hands casually, holding them on his knee. He looked out through the willow branches at the cheerful-looking house with quiet laughter and tinkling wind chimes reaching them. 

“I love coming out here,” Fred voiced. A small smile quirked his lips. “I like seeing that the house is still standing and that the majority of my family is safe inside.”  
They both knew who was missing.

“It’s peaceful,” Hermione added quietly, respecting the atmosphere. 

“Exactly,” Fred agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione was distracted by the feeling of Fred’s hands wrapped around hers. She knew he had technically held her hands when he’d helped her with her nightmare, but she didn’t remember that very well at all. And this was different, anyway. 

It was calming and exciting at the same time. Hermione didn’t want to focus on the exciting part. She refused to even consider the possibility of catching feelings for Fred. That would just cause more drama for Ron, and no one needed that. 

But, at the same time, Fred had said she put herself before others too much… But, no. She wasn’t romantically inclined toward Fred. That was it. End of story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I hope you liked it! Leave a comment if you want!;)


	13. St Mungo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have a conversation, and Ginny and Hermione go to St Mungo's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here is the next chapter. When I'm having a bad day with my social anxiety, I have a hard time with the dialogue, but I did my best. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: Disguises, St Mungo's, therapy, anxiety
> 
> Let me know if I need to add anything!

"Do you think I should be an Auror?" Harry interrupted Hermione's thoughts, not only with his pacing but his abrupt - and quite startling - question. 

"What?" 

Harry sighed heavily and pushed a hand through his curly hair. 

"I always thought it would be the way I had to go, but...Voldemort is gone now. For good. But James was an Auror. Sirius. Mad-eye." Harry turned at the last second, avoiding walking straight into the wall. "I know it's what everyone expects from me."

Hermione studied her confused friend. "Harry...I can't tell you what you want."

"But you know what I should do," Harry said earnestly.

"It isn't about should. It's about what you want now."

A frustrated noise made its way out of Harry's throat. His hands found their way into his hair, making fists and tugging. 

“I just don’t know…” Harry muttered. “I never even considered anything else.”

“No one is saying you have to do anything now, Harry,” Hermione advised, closing her book and setting it on the bed beside her. “You have time to-”

Harry snorted. “I don’t have time, Hermione. People expect me to stay involved.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Hermione said simply. “Whose opinion matters more: theirs, or yours? You are in control of your life now, Harry. All the rumors and speculations ever did was upset you, and you don’t have to put up with it anymore.” Hermione’s throat tightened. “I’m so sorry you had to spend your childhood surrounded by horrible people and a nosy community. Those people will continue to be those people, but you can spend your time however you want.”

She saw Harry’s mouth open and continued before he could interrupt.

“If that is doing what you are doing now, or going back to Hogwarts to finish school, or seeking out other jobs that seem interesting, or some combination of them all, then do it.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Harry articulated. 

Hermione held onto an irrational sense of irritation. 

“Harry...It’s okay not to know what you want. Ask around, see what the possibilities are, find out who you are. It’s a process that everyone is going through right now, and one that might take a while. It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

Harry pushed his hair back from his forehead, something he only ever did around Hermione and the Weasley’s. 

“I’m going to go fly,” Harry determined, already turning toward the door to Ginny’s bedroom.

“Okay, Harry.” Hermione exhaled heavily as soon as Harry closed the door. 

With a groan, Hermione let her body tip to the side and sprawl on the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she could look out the window without the sun blinding her. 

Ginny was going to be coming up and dragging her to the fireplace soon. Hermione had set a time St Mungos to meet with a few of their female mind healer, but she was getting more and more nervous as the time came closer, and now she was more worried about Harry than before. 

Almost on cue, Ginny’s light steps sounded on the staircase. Hermione sighed and buried her face in the soft comforter. Before Ginny could knock softly and open the door as she always did, Hermione was sitting up and straightening her hopeless hair. 

“Ready?” Ginny asked, stepping in and grabbing her trainers. She made no mention of Harry’s attitude.

Hermione nodded, heart rising into her throat, and stood to grab her sturdy boots as well. Together they made their way down to the living room. Molly stood by the fireplace with her pot of Floo powder, looking like she wanted to either stop them from going or demand she go with them. 

Hermione turned to Ginny and raised her wand, waiting for her friend’s nod. She changed just enough of Ginny’s appearance so that she wasn’t immediately recognizable. Her flaming red hair was darkened into an auburn, and her soft brown eyes morphed into a bright hazel. Her nose was elongated, and her lips darkened to a dusty rose instead of a pink. 

Hermione allowed her younger friend to lighten her hair to a dirty blonde (and if Ginny cast a temporary smoothing spell, that was alright) and her eyes to a dark blue. Her cheeks grew less hollow and regained a cheerful blush. Her nose lost its slight button shape, and her eyebrows had a higher arch. 

Ginny nodded, satisfied, and repocketed her wand in its holster. Charlie had gotten all of his family members one from Romania, each with their own designs. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were all assured that they would be getting one for Christmas since they hadn’t been able to be there last year. 

“Be safe,” Molly encouraged (demanded, more like). 

“We will, Mum,” Ginny said, leaning over to kiss her mother on the cheek.

“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, smiling at the worried woman. 

“Yes,” Molly agreed, shaking the pot of powder. “Well, you’d best be on your way if you’re not to be late, dears.”

Both Ginny and Hermione gave her a hug on their way through the Floo. They both pretended not to notice the tears sparkling on her lashes. 

 

________

 

The hospital was bustling as it always was, and Ginny and Hermione made sure to stick close to the other. Hermione had avoided crowds so she wouldn’t be recognized, but now, with the level of anxiety she was feeling, it could also be because of something else. She didn’t have the time or focus to think about that right now. 

Ginny was practically vibrating beside her by the time they made it to the second floor. Hermione had had no idea that Mind Healers worked on this floor, but it made the most sense out of the five options, she guessed. 

They’d been told in what order to talk with each Healer so that they could fit the pair into their schedules. Hermione felt hopeful, but that feeling was almost overridden by the anxiety washing over her. She didn’t even know why she was so intimidated, but she definitely was. 

Ginny had a disturbingly calm look on her face that Hermione immediately wanted to question, but they both had their ways of coping. After knowing Ginny for seven years, she could tell by the tense way she held herself that she was nervous, but, not knowing the girl, she could be easily mistaken as a more serious person than she was.

Ginny’s anxiousness made Hermione feel like she needed to lead. She knocked on the first door and felt her stomach clench when a cheerful voice called out for them to come in. Exchanging a glance with Ginny, she stepped in.

________

Hermione and Ginny flopped down on the coach, breath escaping them in twin rushes. After assuring Mrs. Weasley that all had gone well and that they were fine, she had gone to finish her dinner. Hermione could tell by the smell that it would be more elaborate than usual, and that said a lot. Mrs. Weasley could never be accused of not feeding her family well. Hermione guessed it helped that Molly nervous cooked. 

“So...” Ginny began. “That went well.”

Hermione snorted, covering her face immediately after. 

“Did you see the pictures Healer Bagdan had on her wall?” Hermione laughed.

Ginny mimed gagging. “It would have been harder to miss the sun in the sky. She could be Umbridge’s sister - there were so many cats!”

They both dissolved into laughter, the stress of the last couple of hours seeming to lift away. 

“What did you think about Healer Dennett?”

“Hmm,” Hermione considered. “I think she was nice, but she reminds me too much of one of my teachers in primary school. She was really nice, but she always picked her nose while she wrote on the chalkboard.”

“Ugh!” Ginny exclaimed, leaning away from Hermione and her face twisting up into a disgusted smile that proved she was trying not to laugh. “I can’t look at her the same way now.”

“What about Healer Hartshorn?” Hermione questioned.

“I thought she would be perfect for Harry, if he would agree to see someone.”

“Yes!” Hermione emphasized. “I thought that too!”

“Think he would say yes?” Ginny glanced outside, though he was probably not there anymore. 

“Maybe. It’s worth trying.”

Ginny nodded. She sighed and leaned into the back of the couch.

“I liked Healer Shellaberger,” Ginny admitted. 

“She seemed very wise,” Hermione validated. “Are you going to go with her?”

Ginny considered. “Probably. I think she would be understanding without pitying me, you know?”

“I was looking for that, too. I thought Healer Fullilove was very down to earth. She seemed like she would be productive, instead of sitting there while I talk about all my problems, you know? Like she would offer solutions to my problems.”

Ginny nodded along but looked a little conflicted. 

“The Healer isn’t going to “fix you”, Hermione. She is going to help, hopefully, but please don’t expect everything to get better right away.”

“I know,” Hermione sighed. “I don’t expect her to fix me, but I really, really want to get better. I know that only comes with work, though.”

“We aren’t broken,” Ginny said passionately. “We aren’t broken, and we don’t need to be fixed. We just need help moving past a traumatic time.”

Hermione gave her friend a small smile. “You sound like Fred. We will get past this, Ginny. I know we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those names are real, I swear!:) I looked up strange names because - I think we can all agree - the names in the Harry Potter series tend to be strange, so there we go. Some weirdly named Mind Healers. :)
> 
> Leave a review or kudo, if you want.:)


	14. Safe Silent Sparklers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s brilliant! Oh, I’m so proud of you both!” Hermione flung her arms around both twins’ shoulders.   
>  “Thanks, mum,” George joked.   
> "Try them on," Fred encouraged, pulling away with pink ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know it's late, but on the plus side, it is quite a bit longer than usual. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: I don't think there are any today, please let me know if I should add any!

“You want me to see a shrink?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Harry-” Hermione started.

“I’m not crazy,” Harry said firmly. 

“Of course you’re not! I’m not saying you are, I’m just saying you could benefit from it. Ginny and I have appointments scheduled, and we were hoping you would consider joining.”

That seemed to take the wind out of Harry’s sail. He leant back against the wall in Ron’s room, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Why are you seeing a shrink?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

Hermione sighed.

“Harry, therapy isn’t just for crazy people. Sometimes hard things happen in life that we need help talking through, or sometimes we need medication to help deal with the symptoms that put us in therapy in the first place. I’m having a hard time with some things from the war. Therapy can help with nightmares and flashbacks, Harry. That’s why I’m going. I want to feel safe.”

Harry’s face swamped in a familiar expression of guilt. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about.

“I’ve told you before not to blame yourself, Harry. I won’t listen to you taking the credit for everything Voldemort and his followers did.” 

Saying his name still made a shiver go up her spine. She felt like something was about to go incredibly wrong whenever she heard the name uttered. 

“Just think about it?” Hermione questioned. 

Harry nodded. 

“Sure, Hermione.” 

She thought he was done and was about to suggest they join everyone else downstairs when Harry opened his mouth.

“If I do decide to see a...therapist...will you help me?” The word help came out of Harry’s mouth in a twisted imitation of the word. Hermione wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it.

“Of course,” she said simply.

Harry nodded once and stood, running his palms down the legs of his jeans. 

“Why don’t we join everyone?” he proposed, echoing Hermione’s thoughts. “They are gonna start wondering where we disappeared to for so long.”

It was still pretty common for the trio to disappear at odd times, but Hermione would take Harry’s words for what they were - a plea to leave the conversation where it was.

“Sure, Harry. Fred wanted to show me something before dinner, anyway.” She smiled in anticipation. 

The sound of a bustling Burrow reached their ears the farther down the stairs they went. The sheer normalcy of it made a warm feeling of home spread through Hermione’s chest. 

“Fred!” George shouted when he looked over his shoulder at the descending pair. “She’s here!”

Hermione felt more than saw Harry flinch behind her.

Fred bounded into the living room with a flying towel after him that managed to smack him in the back of the head despite his quick maneuverings to prevent it. His laughter melded with the chuckles from Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. 

“Dear Hermione,” Fred started grandly. “If you will come this way, we, the amazingly talented Weasley twins, have something mind-blowing to show you.”

And while his words were, for the most part, said in gest, Hermione could see his sincere excitement. 

Hermione pretended (kind of - she still didn’t trust them 100% not to try something) to look suspiciously between the identical pair standing side by side. 

“Am I going to regret agreeing to this?”

“Nope,” George said, popping the ‘p’. 

“Alright,” Hermione agreed slowly. 

“Great!” George said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her through the kitchen - (“Boys! Be gentle!”) and out the front door.

“This is one of our best inventions yet,” Fred said excitedly. “We want to show the whole family later tonight, but, since you helped us with it, we wanted to hear your thoughts first.”

Hermione let herself be led along, genuinely curious to see what they had to show her. When they reached the shed in the backyard, she had a flash of suspicion, but one look at the twins’ faces made her relax. 

Once the door was firmly shut behind her, the twins made a grandiose gesture to a pair of inconspicuous pair of earrings sitting on a stool. Hermione recalled making a note on the Safe Silent Sparklers section of the packet at the shop to make the end product a less conspicuous form, like earrings or, if earrings weren’t an option for the customer, two clear, magnetic, plastic earring-like shapes to go where an earring normally would. 

 

Hermione clapped her hands together. 

“You did it!” she exclaimed. “You really did it! How - when -?”

Fred and George laughed at her excitement. 

“All it really needed were some enchantments, you did the rest. We couldn’t decide how to actually make them usable, besides the earmuffs that you saw. But, obviously, those aren’t practical at all, and they’re so obvious. We don’t want people to be turned off because they’re embarrassed,” Fred elaborated.

“It’s brilliant! Oh, I’m so proud of you both!” Hermione flung her arms around both twins’ shoulders. 

“Thanks, mum,” George joked. 

"Try them on," Fred encouraged, pulling away with pink ears.

Hermione practically ran to scoop them up in her excitement. The earrings were subtle stud pearls, a valuable gem in the Wizarding World. As soon as they were secured, Hermione felt a strange feather-like sensation tickle her ears. 

All sound was muffled for a moment before clearing out.

"Okay," George started. "We are going to set off a series of bangs with our wands-"

"-and you tell us what you hear."

Hermione watched them shoot sparks out if their wands, and instead of hearing a loud BANG! like she'd expected, she heard a whisper of a boom, loud enough to be noticeable, but not enough to startle her out of her wits. If the bang had been unexpected, she probably would have twitched to see what was happening, but the noise wouldn't have sent her into a flashback.

She clapped her hands together at the sheer brilliance of the pair standing in front of her. They lowered their wands with broad smiles on their faces.

"What d'you think?" Fred asked, tipping up onto the balls of his feet.

"It's brilliant! You are brilliant," she exclaimed to the both of them. "This will help so many people, I'm sure of it!" 

“Thanks, Hermione,” George said gratefully. “We couldn’t have done it without your notes.”

Hermione waved her hand as if to wave away George’s comment. 

“You’d’ve figured it out.” Hermione reached up to take the earrings out. “I can’t wait for your fam-”

“What are you doing?” Fred asked, confused.

Hermione looked between the twins. 

“Giving your earrings back?” Hermione said slowly.

“Those are for you,” George explained. 

Hermione’s mouth opened to protest.

“Please, Hermione, you got us through more problems in one day than we could have in a week. Without your help we’d still be stuck on the idea of earmuffs with silencing charms on them.”

Hermione felt blood rush to her face. 

“I don’t know…”

“Well, that’s okay, because we do,” George said firmly. “We want to give these to you, and, if it makes you feel better, we are giving some to everyone tonight as well. Everyone’s coming to send Ron off, and it’s not like we can’t make more.”

Hermione nodded and re-fastened the earring back into her ear. The feather brush feeling was welcome, as she knew it would protect her from any unwelcome sounds.  
When they re-entered the house, the table was set and Mrs. Weasley was just finishing the last touches on dinner. 

“Hey, mate,” George called when Bill came through. 

The brothers all exchanged hugs, and, to Hermione’s surprise, she received one from the long-haired Weasley as well. 

“Hey, Bill,” she greeted. 

“How are you, Hermione?” Bill asked. He surveyed her face, eyes lingering over the dark circles under her eyes.

Hermione cleared her throat. 

“Excited for tonight, how are you?”

Bill quirked a half smile at her evasion.

“I’m happy to see everyone,” Bill said. “I’m sure Ron will appreciate all the effort everyone is putting in to see him off.”

Hermione nodded. 

“I know he will. He’s beyond excited.” And nervous, Hermione left out.

“‘ermione!” Fleur called in her familiar French accent. “I’m so ‘appy to see you.”

Hermione embraced her friend, gasping in shock when her (too) flat stomach made contact with a slight swell from Fleur’s. Hermione pulled back in joyful shock, hand covering her mouth.

Fleur smiled brightly.

“It is a secret,” she whispered conspiringly. “Pleaze don’t tell anyone.”

Hermione mimed zipping her lips shut, though her wide smile sort of ruined the effect. 

She grabbed Bill’s arm, still half hugging Fleur.

“I’m so happy for you both,” she whispered thickly. Tears of joy, seemingly, were making their appearance.

Bill covered her hand with his own.

“Thanks, Hermione.” 

His own smile could power the house for a week, it was so bright.

“All this hubbub in my kitchen,” Mrs. Weasley said, trying to sound stern. They could all tell that she was pleased. “Out, the lot of you. I won’t have any picking at my food before we all sit down together.”

A chorus of, “Yes, Mum,” rang around the kitchen. Harry and Ron were sitting and playing Wizard’s chess, with Mr. Weasley as a spectator. Ginny was perched on the arm of Harry’s chair. 

“Argh,” Ron groaned, hand swiping down his face. Harry had just blasted an important piece, and his fists were pumping in the air victoriously. 

“Utterly barbaric,” Hermione said, repeating her words from first year with warmth.

“‘Mione!” Ron exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. “Did you hear the news? Fleur’s pregnant!” he whispered loudly. (It was a good thing Mr. Weasley was congratulating Harry on his good score at that moment.)

“Yeah, say that a little louder, why don’t you?” Bill teased, slapping Ron on the back of the head.

Ron scowled, rubbing his head and opened his mouth to argue back.

Fleur leaned over to Hermione. “We asked heez permission to tell the ‘ole family tonight,” she whispered happily. “We did not want to take away from heez spotlight.”

Hermione gripped Fleur’s hand in shared happiness. 

A CRACK! from the front yard made the whole room jump. Hermione’s wand was in her hand before she realized it, but it was unnecessary. 

“It’s me!” Charlie shouted.

“And me!” Percy called, the usual pompous tone replaced by nerves. This was only his third family dinner since the end of the war.

“Boys!” They heard Mrs. Weasley say warmly. “Oh, Charlie, what is that?”

Hermione heard Charlie’s warm chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, Mum,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “One of the young mother’s just had her first egg hatch. She was so excited she caught the whole lot of us off guard with her tail spikes.”

“Oh, you!” Mrs. Weasley said. “You will let me look at that later, young man.”

Everyone in the living room laughed. 

“Yes, Mum,” Charlie groaned. 

Charlie made his way into the living room, Percy being held up by his enthusiastic mother.

“Hi, all!”

“Hello, Charlie,” Hermione called amidst the other greetings. 

“Alright, Charlie?” Ron asked.

They could all the graze down Charlie’s arm from the mother dragon.

“Alright. You all should have been there, it was incredible!” Charlie said enthusiastically. “I was lucky to have been there, really. Witnessing a first time hatching, wow!”  
Charlie went on to explain the event to Bill, who had years of practice listening to excited dragon talk. 

The lumpy couch had to be elongated to fit them all, but fit them all it did. Hermione was shoved in between Fred and Fleur and was watching her best friend’s chess game, cheering them on and talking to the blonde girl sitting next to her in equal measures. 

“Dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called. 

“Yes!” George called. “I’m starving!”

The table was full of happy family members. 

“I love your earrings,” Ginny said from across the table. “Pearls suit you.”

Hermione blushed.

“Thanks, Gin.”

Fred winked at her from his side of the table. Hermione just rolled her eyes playfully. 

Hermione managed to eat more than she had been since before the war. The happy atmosphere distracted her from her full stomach.

Towards the end of dinner, as dessert was being happily devoured, Bill stood up and cleared his throat.

“Hello all,” he said. Chuckles sounded from all places at the table. “Fleur and I have an announcement to make, and before you ask,” he said, directing this to Mrs. Weasley, “-we have permission from Ron to surprise you tonight. He was very good about this.”

Ron blushed red.

Mrs. Weasley was sitting on the edge of her seat, looking like she knew what was coming, but it was too good to be true.

Fleur stood next to her husband.

“Bill and I are expecting a bébé,” she announced, hands moving gracefully, even in her excitement. 

A happy shriek escaped Mrs. Weasley. 

“Oh, I knew it, I knew it!” she cried, standing and hugging her daughter-in-law.

Mr. Weasley stood as well, and shook hands with Bill, slapping him on the back as they hugged. 

“Congrats!” the twins shouted.

Ginny stood and crossed the floor to hug Bill and then Fleur. 

“I’m so happy for you both,” she said. She seemed to have gotten over her aversion to Fleur.

Harry offered his own congratulations. He seemed much more comfortable with the idea of children after spending time with baby Teddy. Andromeda was taking care of him until Grimmauld Place was habitable for children. 

Dessert was forgotten by the four eldest in the room, so enthralled were they by baby talk. 

Amidst all the happiness, however, Hermione started to feel out of place. It wasn’t like she was really part of their family; she was just some girl who had tagged along with Harry and Ron. Mrs. Weasley had been known in the past to assume the worst about Hermione (fourth year, anyone?) and the abundant amount of energy took a lot out of her.   
Just as she made the decision to slip away, Fred wedged into the spot next to her. 

“Are you going to finish that?” he asked, gesturing to her cherry pie. 

Hermione swallowed quickly. “No, I’m quite done.”

“You really should eat more,” Fred encouraged while sliding her plate towards his place. 

Hermione blushed. 

“I know,” she replied shortly. 

Fred looked up at her through his eyelashes. 

“Please don’t take that the wrong way. I’m just worried about you. I know you can take care of yourself, but can I please care about you too?”

Fred’s eyes really were gorgeous. They had flecks of gold in them she’d never noticed before. 

She nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Baby Weasley #1 on the way!


	15. Congratulations, Ronnikins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! New chapter! I wanted to leave it off on a happy note, so I left it a little short. The next chapter will be longer.:)
> 
> TW: None.
> 
> (Let me know if I should add any)

It had taken longer than it normally would have to convince everyone to go outside when it was time for Fred and George’s announcement. 

“Is everyone ready?” George asked. 

“Yeah, let’s get a move on,” Charlie called. Next to him, Ginny reached over to slap her brother on the arm. 

“Alright, everyone. We are introducing a new product,” a chorus of groans rang out, “-and we would like you all to have the second look.”

“Second?” Ron tossed out, mock offended. “Who had the first look?”

“Our dear friend Hermione who co-invented them.”

Hermione giggled as everyone turned to look at her, glad the darkness was covering her blush. 

“Anyway,” George interjected through the jumbled questions. “We would like each of you to put on a pair of earrings, and for those of you without piercings, we have something for you, as well. We made each of them specially for you, so if you don’t like them, don’t tell us.”

Fred and George stepped forward, handing a pair to each Weasley.

“Are these real?” Ginny asked, shocked. She had received a pair of opal earrings that Hermione knew would compliment her red hair brilliantly.

“Just for you, sis,” Fred said casually.

Ginny put them on tenderly, shivering as the shield went up around her ears. 

Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she received a pair of diamonds. 

“Oh, boys!” she said, slapping the nearest twin (George) on the arm. “You really shouldn’t have!”

“We wanted to, Mum.”

Fleur received a beautiful pair made of sapphires (“Thank you, Fred, George.”), and Bill got a pair of some small, black stone that Hermione couldn’t identify for his second ear piercings. 

“Thank you,” he said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. 

Mr. Weasley was the first to get a clear pair. 

“Oh!” he said, shaking his head a little. “What a funny feeling.”

“Not unpleasant, is it, Dad?” George asked.

“No, no, just strange.”

Ron also received a clear pair. 

“Let us know if you want to pierce your ears, Ronnikins,” Fred said, winking. 

Ron wrinkled his nose. 

Charlie oohed as he held his pair of all gold studs. 

“The dragons will love these!”

Laughter rang out.

Percy got another clear pair, to which he cleared his throat and replied, “Thank you, Fred, George.”

“Anything for you, brother dearest,” they responded together. 

“Didn’t think we’d forget you, did you, Harry?” Fred asked.

Harry shifted. “No.”

“Well, best for last as I say,” George said, handing Harry a pair of clear earrings. “Oi, let us know if you want to pierce your ears as well, aye, mate?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, slipping the plastic over his ear lobes. 

“Alright,” George said, clapping his hands together. “Firework time!”

Hermione watched as several faces blanched.

“Is that the best idea?”

“Boys! Please be considerate.”

“I don’t really want to see them.”

Fred wolf whistled. “Oi!” he called. “Your earrings work as a sound muffler for loud noises. We wouldn’t have proposed this otherwise.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley said, surprised. “Well, in that case…”

Hermione could tell they were still nervous, but willing to go along anyway. Harry shifted on his feet, leaning slightly towards Ginny and putting his arm around her waist. She turned her face up to smile at him and whispered something in his ear that made him smile. 

“Everyone,” George said loudly with a proud smile on his face. “May I present Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes new line of Filibusters fireworks?”

Fred and George aimed their wands at a dark lump on the ground. After muttering the release spell (much safer than the muggle way - no wonder they got bits blown off so often) they turned to face the family. 

“Enjoy,” they said together. 

A brilliant display of light shot up into the air, whirling and exploding over their heads. Beside her, several people applauded and cheered, but she didn’t look away to see who. 

There were times when she was overwhelmed anew with the sheer awesomeness that was magic. This was one of those times. Muggle fireworks couldn’t stay lit for so long, and couldn’t do the twists and turns and exploding colors that the twins had achieved. And the best part - the BOOM! that they had all feared was a quiet brush of a noise.

Just when Hermione was convinced the twins couldn’t get any more brilliant, the fireworks above disappeared for a moment, then re exploded to say ‘Congratulations Ronnikins!’. 

“Oh!” It was perfect. Hermione couldn’t believe how considerate everyone was being towards their younger brother. 

As the bright display cleared, hugs were exchanged with the twins and Ron, well wishes ringing all around. 

“You’ll do so well, Ron!” 

“Let us know if you need anything!”

Even though Ron wasn’t leaving until early in the morning, it seemed all the well wishes and good luck was going out right now. 

“Love you, Ron,” Hermione whispered in his ear when it was her turn to hug him.

“Love you, Mione.”

Hermione turned away with tears in her eyes, trying subtly to wipe them away before anyone saw. But, it seemed, she didn’t succeed.

“What’d you think?” Fred asked, enveloping her in a hug. 

Hermione hid her face in Fred’s sweater clad chest.

“It was brilliant,” she said, squeezing his middle. “As always. You guys are doing so well.”

“Thanks,” Fred said, rocking her exaggeratedly side by side so anyone looking would think they were just joking around. “We really are so grateful for your help.”

Hermione pulled back a little, sniffing away the last of her tears. “Well,” she said, laughing a little. “It is sort of fun, isn’t it? Breaking the rules?”

He laughed with her, and in that moment, Hermione let herself fall just a little bit in love with Fred Weasley.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but more is coming in the future. This is my first fan-fiction I am posting, so be gentle please. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


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